


MInas Tirith  Footsteps in the White City

by Bethann, Minniemoggie



Series: Legendary Friendship [6]
Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Friendship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas and Gimli meet in Minas Tirith for the one year celebration of the defeat of Sauron</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co Authored with Minnie  
> This story has AU elements

**Chapter 1**

 

From the pen of Thranduil Oropherion Lord of Eryn Lasgalen,

 _Gimli Elvellon_

 _I write to beseech you to once again take up the mantle of care for my only child Legolas Thranduilion heir to the throne of Eryn Lasgalen, the Wood of Green Leaves._

 _You proved yourself adept in deciphering the needs of my son and in dealing with those particular needs in your own unique but highly efficacious fashion during the Fellowship and its aftermath as you brought him safe home to me._

 _I cannot ever find the words to express my gratitude for all that you did to ensure that he came back to those who loved him. Please do not think that I do not acknowledge the role you played in that return or that I do not value the love you expended upon him.  I know and can never be sufficiently grateful for that care and while Legolas may demur as to the need for your concern I know better._

 _Knowing the love you have for my son I make bold as to ask once again for your help, Legolas is determined to travel south to Gondor to mark the first anniversary of the relief of Minas Tirith. I freely admit to being in something of a quandary as to why a one-year anniversary is so important. Legolas tells me it is something to do with mortality and I have decided to take him at his word._

 _I have reluctantly given him my blessing for his travel to Minas Tirith, for he made certain promises to Estel Elrondion about helping to beautify the White City if and when the war was won. I would not have him be seen to break his word even though I am reluctant to let him from my side so soon after his return. It has only been a few months, the tiniest fraction of time as far as we of the Eldar reckon it. Yet given his propensity to live with mortal kind I have to accept that, that is long enough for many changes to have taken place in their lives and I am concerned he may find some of those changes very difficult to accept._

 _What I am saying in my rather long-winded fashion is that I need someone he loves and cares for to keep an ‘eye” on him. I will not seek to hide from you that he has found the winter he has spent at home difficult. Mayhap I expected too much from him, or he had changed so much that the normal restrictions that would be expected of a prince of our realm chafed on him. He wanted freedom, he objected to the boundaries that were set for him and constantly tested them, it has made for a difficult Rhiw and I fear you may find that he has become even more ‘flighty’ than you remember._

 _What I would ask of you Elvellon is that you do not relent in your vigilance towards my son nor do you lessen in your determination to ‘deal’ with him as his needs dictate. He will continue to have need of your firm hand and your unfailing love in the months ahead and I beg, something that I rarely do, that you do not fail him in that need._

 _I ask that you keep me appraised on how my son comports himself in the city of stone and remind him that a letter home to his parent would be very much welcomed and is not as difficult thing to achieve as he appears to believe._

 _I place all my trust in you Gimli son of Gloin and offer you my profound gratitude for all you have done or may do for my son_

 _Thranduil Oropherion_

 

 

I fold the parchment and put it back in my pocket. I have read this letter many times since receiving it over two months ago before I left my new home in Algarond to travel to Minas Tirith. I had been pleased to receive the news that Legolas had managed to gain permission to return to the White City, for I had been afraid that his father would be loathe to let him go so soon. I have sorely missed him and so quickly sent a reply telling of my willingness to continue to take charge of the lad. It is something I am happy to do and would have done anyway, even with out this special request.  I believe I will always think of him as my charge, no matter how mature he may become in the coming years.  My job will be made somewhat easier, though, now that I have the King’s backing, for I am certain Legolas has been instructed as to what is expected of him and was likely made to promise to heed me before he was allowed one step away from the stronghold in Eryn Lasgalen. 

 

I am not surprised to hear that he has found the winter at home difficult.  His absence during the war was without permission and many of his actions after it proved that he still does not always make the best or most sensible choices.  In fact I would say it is a rare event indeed when he does bother to think through the repercussions of his actions.  It is no wonder his father had him under close watch since his return.  Who could blame him?  He has been given ample reason to be concerned.

 

Legolas has at times admitted to the wisdom of having been placed in the care of a guardian.  We became very close during out year together and I think he appreciated my care and attention, but he often felt that I, like his minders at home, was overprotective and far too watchful.  He felt he was perfectly capable of making his own decisions regarding what was acceptable for him to do, something that often had us at odds. 

 

  No, it is not surprising or unusual that he has been kept on such a short leash or that this has him cross and chafing under the scrutiny.  My work is cut out for me it seems, especially after considering some of the more recent developments here in the city that I have recently been made aware of.  I laugh wryly thinking about my first meeting with the King and Queen of Gondor, when I arrived here several days ago.  Legolas is not the only one who is tired of being watched.

 

Upon my arrival, I was first escorted to a very comfortable apartment of rooms within the citadel, where I can stay together with the elfling.  Perhaps Aragorn has received a letter from King Thranduil as well stating the necessity of this, or maybe he has used his own discernment considering the climate in the city.  I do not know, but as soon as I had made myself presentable, I was taken to meet King Elessar, not in the formal receiving hall, but in his private chambers.  He apologized for greeting me in such a casual fashion, but stated that after months of sleeping on the ground back to back with someone, it is hard to be concerned over etiquette and besides that he didn’t feel like dressing up.  I heartily agreed and we were enjoying a companionable conversation and a smoke, when I enquired of the Queen.

 

It was then that he told me of the rumors of a small group of insurgents who are unhappy with his choice of Queen.  They object to the fact that she is not fully human and would like to keep the White City free of any elvish influence for fear the human population will lose their control of the city. Tales of whispered threats managed to reach the King’s ears, and he now feels it necessary to keep his Queen guarded night and day, something the Lady has objected strongly to evidently. 

 

“You will soon see what I mean, Friend Gimli,” Aragorn told me, “It is not the way I had hoped to begin our marriage.”

 

And it was only minutes after that that I did see what he meant.  A light but swift step could be heard coming toward the King’s chamber, quickly followed by the heavy thud of many pairs of boots.  Next I heard a feminine voice muttering under her breath and then, “I have had quite enough of this constant harassment. NO, I do not want to hear again what the King says; there are some things that are meant to be private. DO NOT FOLLOW ME!”

 

The door opened just enough to permit her slight form to enter and then was slammed soundly behind her.  Leaning with her back against the door, she immediately lit into her husband.

 

“Estel this has gotten entirely out of hand. I cannot say hello to the chambermaid without half a dozen men drawing swords and rifling through her cleaning supplies. Every staff member walks a wide path around me to avoid being harassed by my protectors and all because of some unproven bit of gossip. Furthermore, I cannot even take a proper pee without getting stage fright from the guards listening at the door!  You must put a stop to this or I will be tempted to turn in my resignation as Queen!” 

 

 Such language for a Lady!

 

Aragorn turned helplessly to me, “See what I mean?”

 

“Lord Gimli!” The Queen flushed brightly noticing me for the first time. “I did not realize you were here already. I hope you have found your accommodations to your liking.”

“Indeed they are more than suitable, My Lady.” I said,   “I am certain we will be quite comfortable there.”




 

“We?” The Lady looked puzzled.  “Oh yes, Legolas is staying with you isn’t he?  It is well that you will be here to watch out for him, especially considering the rum…” She frowned suddenly and swallowed her words.

 

“What is that you were saying, Arwen?” Aragorn was quick to jump on her error.  “Especially considering the rumors going around the city. Is that it?”

 

“That is _not_ what I was going to say!”

 

“I suppose you think that these rumors bode ill for all but you. Legolas needs to be protected, but you don’t, is that what you meant?” He turned to me for support, “That sounds very like a double standard, wouldn’t you agree Gimli?”

 

Before I had decided how to answer that delicate question, the Queen’s face grew extraordinarily dark indeed. Her fists and teeth clenched, she replied,  “No it is not!  It is a totally different situation.  That crazy, flighty elfling has such a propensity for trouble that he should be surrounded by a contingent of specially trained guards at all times.  I on the other hand can take care of myself!  Now if you will excuse me, I came in here for a reason” With that she stomped off to attend to her private business, leaving Aragorn and I cringing and hurrying to change the subject.

 

 Since then the Queen has continued to be trailed by guards, but I had not thought any further about the reasons for this until today.  The patrol guarding the city has sent word to me that Legolas and his escort have been spotted and should be arriving shortly.  In light of the rumors I have come to collect him at the gate, just to be on the safe side. I admit to having trepidations as to how he will view this precaution, especially after reading the King’s letter and after seeing Lady Arwen’s reaction to being so closely watched.  Of course I will do what I have to do to keep my word to his father, but I would rather we at least start out with a pleasant reunion and not an argument.  I am resigned to the possibility that we may have some wrinkles to iron out before we settle into a peaceful arrangement that we can both live with, though I am convinced it will be worth the effort.

 

 

 

 

 

 

XXXX

 

 

 

 

My journey south has been tedious, my escort taking my father’s final admonition to keep me under close watch until I was in sight of the White City very seriously indeed.

 

Yet even with that too close surveillance it has been a relief to be free from the confinement I have felt in Eryn Lasgalen.  I know I sound as if nothing satisfies me, but I have been so stifled at home. My family and the members of my Adar’s court mean well, but they still see me as little more than a child, at least emotionally. When I returned from Erebor I had high hopes that the success of my visit to the dwarven realm under the mountain would weigh in my favor with my father. It turned out to be anything but, King Thorin’s missive to my Adar rather than reassuring him, or making him proud of me seemed only to confirm his fears that I had once again managed to get myself into a scrape that was both dangerous and highly imprudent given my precarious position at the time. I am still not certain if he was referring to my rope walk or Lady Vonild’s initial disapproval of me.

Either way I spent the whole of the winter being regaled with my Ada’s views on my conduct while in Erebor and very unpleasant it was too!

 

I suppose I had expected too much. My time away with the Fellowship and then my success in Erebor had awoken in me a conviction that I was finally about to be accepted as an adult by my kin.

This belief was very soon dashed. It being my Ada’s view that my having been absent for a year it was time I applied myself to my princely duties. Including in which he pronounced was a furthering of my education, which according to my Adar had been shown to be sadly lacking.

 

For a long time I feared I would not be given leave to travel south to Gondor to visit Aragorn and Arwen, but a letter from Gimli seemed to reassure my parent that whatever plans I might have on ‘enjoying’ myself would be properly squashed by my dwarven guardian’s presence.

“I place great faith in the strong hand of Gimli Gloinson” my father told me, “and you may be sure that I have written to him to tell him that he has my full support in any efforts of his to ensure you keep in line when you go to keep your promise to Estel.”

 

I knew it was useless to argue with him for he had that look about him that I was far too familiar with.  I could only place my hopes in being able to persuade Gimli that there was no need to follow to the letter my father’s strictures.

 

My dwarven friend is very fond of me I know, and I had sufficient confidence in my ability to persuade him that I began to feel quite confident that my sojourn in the White City might not be as uncomfortable as my father might wish!

 

I had kept this thought foremost in my mind on my journey south and when I finally came in sight of Minas Tirith and I saw the stocky shape of Gimli Gloinson standing beside the still broken gates leaning on his walking axe, his hirsute face wreathed in smiles at my arrival I felt a great release of the tension and knew that things were going to be better from then on.

 

I spurred Arod forward ignoring the protests of my escorts who made an abortive lunge at my cape. Leaping from Arod’s back to the ground just as Gimli hurried forward,

 I fell to my knees and was instantly encompassed in a hearty embrace, which I hurried to reciprocate.

 

“Gimli, how I have missed you,” I cried realizing how true my words were. Only half a year away from him seemed like a lifetime to me now. “Are you well?”

 

I was happy to see that my happiness was equally returned for Gimli hugged me close and growled “Laddie, Laddie, it’s good to see you and aye I am very well.” He looked behind me to where my minders were riding forward their faces redolent of their disapproval of my precipitant actions. “Here now, you had better see to your escort lad.”

 

It was my own opinion that my ‘escort’ could go to Mordor, since they had kept me tied by the heels for the whole journey, but I could see that such opinions would not go down well with Gimli, so I docilely agreed to his suggestion that they be housed in the barracks on the sixth level of the city while their horses were given an opportunity to rest.

 

“I am sure Aragorn will have letters to send to your father, and you may also wish to write to the king and reassure him that you are safe in my care.”

 

While I by no means approved the words ‘safe in my care’ I was not such an idiot as to voice my objections and Gimli was already placing my escort into the care of an escort of their own. I wondered at this but since it was of little interest to me I was happy to see them being led away and was more than content to follow Gimli into the city through the shattered main gates.

 

When he then pronounced that he was happy to ride up to the Citadel behind me on Arod, I began to wonder if something was amiss a belief that was reinforced when six of the Citadel Guard formed up around us and seemed determined to escort the pair of us all the way to the seventh level and a reunion with Aragorn and Arwen.

Still, I was so happy to be reunited with Gimli that I did not argue for we had so much news to exchange and I wanted to hear if his family were well, especially Lady Vonild and Greirr. I was also keen to know of how far he had got in organizing a move of some of his kin to Rohan.

 

In no time at all we were clattering through the tunnel and coming out at the steps before the newly restored King’s House.

Aragorn and Arwen are both waiting for us, and like Gimli before them their faces are wreathed in smiles.

 

Aragorn hurries forward to help Gimli down and then all but drags me from Arod’s back so happy is he it seems to have me back in Gondor. We exchange warrior handclasps and then be pulls me into a fraternal hug.

  
“It is good to have you here with us again” he laughs, “I thought Thranduil might refuse to let you come.”

“So did I,” I retort moving over to Arwen who is still standing on the steps with both arms open. “You are more beautiful than ever,” I tell her as I kiss her hand.

 

“And so are you. Your winter at home has done you good it seems. How is your father?”

 

“He is very well, and very busy trying to bring our forests back to good health. It has not stopped him from spending the whole of the season in scolding and lecturing me on my various failings. Still, he sends his best wishes to you, hopes you are happy in your new life and said I was to tell you that if there is anything he can do for you he will be glad to do so.”

 

Arwen beams at me “Dear Lord Thranduil, he is so kind. I shall write to him today. But come in come in, your baggage arrived a few days ago. You will be pleased to know that I have had your trunks unpacked.”

 

The four of us go into the hall and up the stone staircase to the King’s private apartments; Arwen has tucked her hand in mine and is chattering away as we walk. I keep one ear on her words and allow most of my attention to take in the changes that have been made in this austere building since last year. There are signs of elven influence everywhere. Rich hangings, filmy drapes at the windows, statuary and pieces of art work on elegant tables and most importantly to me at least bowls of fresh flowers and leaves.

 

We reach the second floor and I look back to where Aragorn and Gimli are following. They are talking quietly to each other and I hear Aragorn asking if anything unusual occurred on our journey up through the city.

 

“No, and I made sure the escort sent by King Thranduil are safely housed in the barracks on the sixth level and that should they wish to go out into the city they will be accompanied.”

 

A frown creases my brow and I see that Arwen is also listening to her husband and Gimli and that she is scowling, I am about to ask what is amiss when she shakes her head and indicates we will speak later. I have to be satisfied with that since we have reached my temporary quarters.

 

I am surprised to find that I am to be sharing my rooms with Gimli. Not that I have any great objection to the arrangement save that my bedchamber windows look out over an inner courtyard rather than the city itself. I look down at the sheer walls beneath and above me; it occurs to me that I have been placed here to make it difficult for me to ‘escape’.

Such a thought is unworthy of me I tell myself yet I cannot rid myself of the idea that I am being kept safe from something or someone and I do not like it at all.

 

I am not a child and I do not appreciate being treated as if I am one. I have promised myself that this visit will be the one where I get to do as I wish rather than what others decide for me.

I intend to explore the city and its surroundings and I promised Greirr that I would make drawings of all the things of interest and make notes for him on all the things I see. I read also during the long winter months that in the spring it has been the tradition for the youth of Minas Tirith to indulge in horse racing around the streets of the city itself and I am determined that should it be run during my stay I am going to take part.

 

For now I smile and nod as Aragorn and Arwen ask Gimli and myself to join them for dinner. We are the first of the guests invited for the one-year anniversary celebrations to arrive in Minas Tirith and as Arwen says we have much to catch up on. Not least just what is going on between Aragorn and Gimli?

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

**Chapter 2**

 

So far Legolas has not asked any difficult questions, but it is only a matter of time before he begins to wonder at the number of guards that continue hovering around him.  He did look questioningly at me when six Citadel guards flanked us all the way to the King’s door, but I was able to keep the conversation going about what has happened in our months apart, and he seemed content to listen to my news.

 

  He was not quite prepared to talk about his winter at home yet, telling me only that it was nice to be away for a while.  I did not press for details, having already read King Thranduil’s letter and knowing he would tell me about it when he was ready.  I did have some regret knowing the reason that the season was so difficult was due in large part to his desire to please me and make a good impression on my family and my people.  Of course I do not approve of how he chose to accomplish this, and he is fully aware of that fact, yet I wish things might have gone better at home, somehow; for his intentions were noble even if his actions were less than wise.  Though I perfectly understand his father’s point of view on the matter and appreciate his concerns, I cannot help feeling empathy for Legolas’ situation and wish I could make sure he has a more pleasant spring than winter.  I certainly do not relish the idea of telling him that things will not be much better here in the White City as far as freedom goes, at least until something can be discovered about the roots of the rumors and threats going about the city. 

 

But I will not be able to keep this a secret for long.  Before he even was welcomed by the Queen and King, he was already discussing plans to explore the city, chomping at the bit to do something of his “own choosing.”  I was saved from responding to that comment, for we had arrived and could see Aragorn and Arwen awaiting us and smiling broadly. Aragorn barely waited for Arod to stand still before dragging the elfling off the horse’s back and pulling him into a brotherly embrace.  There were warm greetings all around, though Lady Arwen blushed slightly as she caught my eye, perhaps remembering her less than ladylike language when last she saw me.  She quickly regained her composure though and took Legolas by the hand, chatting pleasantly with him as we walked to our quarters. 

 

Aragorn fell in behind and walked with me, asking me about our ride through the levels of the city and speaking quietly of some slur that had been shouted at one of the Queen’s waiting maids as she was taking one of the Lady’s gowns to be cleaned.  Arwen had been quite rattled that her presence might be endangering her beloved ladies, and has been slightly less argumentative about the need for security since that time, though she still is not pleased by the loss of privacy.  She is not happy about it, but does now understand the necessity of it, which is probably more than we will be able to say for the elfling now walking before us into the quarters we will be sharing over the next several months.  No I do not savor the idea of explaining to him how things must be. 

 

Aragorn and Arwen depart after we have agreed to join them for evening meal, leaving me alone with Legolas for the first time in half a year.  I can see he wants to know what is going on, but before he can ask I encourage him to take some time to freshen up from his travels.  I know I am only putting off the unavoidable, but our time together has been pleasant so far and I do not want to face the inevitable argument that will take place once it is made plain that he will not have as much freedom as he had hoped. 

 

While he follows my suggestion, I spend a few moments penning a quick letter to King Thranduil reassuring him that his son has been delivered safely to me and that I will do all I can to keep him out of trouble and make his stay here successful.  I am just blotting the ink, when he joins me again in the common room and sits in the chair across the small table from me. 

 

Again I have the feeling that perhaps it is not quite proper how pleased I am to have him by my side again.  Not so long ago, I would have never believed it possible that an elf could have such a hold on my heart, and my family’s as well.  But I shamelessly admit it is true and suddenly I want to know all that has happened in our time apart. 

 

“So tell me Lad, what have you been up to over the last months?  The King’s letter said you found the winter season to be somewhat difficult.” 

 

Legolas’ expression darkens as he mutters under his breath, “He must have been congratulating himself on his success.”

 

“I didn’t quite catch that, Elfling.  Speak up.”

 

“It is not important really,” he sighs. “It is just that I have been afraid to smile since we left Erebor for fear it might be reported to my father that I was seen to be finding pleasure in something.  I wouldn’t want to force him to have to come up with some newly contrived assignment designed to “keep the prince out of trouble” and crush every morsel of enjoyment from my life.”

 

“I do not think it was your father’s mission to make your life miserable, Lad,” I chuckle, “ Perhaps you are exaggerating just a little bit.”

 

“Not much,” he grumbles, “but anyway, I am here now where there won’t be someone monitoring my every move.”  He says this brightly while eyeing me hopefully and offering a charming smile.  He is obviously counting on the fact that I have a certain weakness where he is concerned. I often find myself torn between two sides when it comes to my elven charge. I find it difficult to deny him anything that will make him happy, and I’ll admit that I have been known to be persuaded by doe eyes or a sweet smile.  On the other hand I have a strong sense of duty and I am not willing to compromise on my promise to do my best to keep him safe from harm whether from outside forces or from his own lack of wisdom and maturity.  Those sides are warring inside me now, but I realize with the uncertainty of the climate in the city I will be better erring on the side of caution. I just do not want to have to break that news to him.  Legolas can read me almost as well as I can read him, for he immediately senses my hesitation and insists that I quit stalling and tell him what is going on.

 

“I can see something is amiss, Elvellon.  You will not be able to keep it from me forever, so you might as well be out with it.”

 

I sigh and begin telling him all I know about what has taken place over the last several weeks and about the King’s fear for the Queen’s safety.  His first reaction is to be indignant and concerned for Lady Arwen’s sake.  We must find the scoundrels who have threatened the Queen and make sure they are driven from the city or placed under the jailhouse.  He will be happy to talk to Arwen about the necessity of cooperating with the guards who are just doing their duty.  She would do well to act with prudence and accept the fact that she needs this extra protection until the menace is eliminated.  He continues his rant while I wait silently for him to realize exactly what I am trying to tell him.  He finally stops and looks at me suspiciously.

 

“Why did you not want me to hear about this?” He demands.

 

“I knew you would not like to hear that Aragorn and I feel that until we have a handle on this situation, you will need to be guarded as well.”  I look him straight in they eye and keep my expression even, but inwardly I am wincing as I watch his scowl grow to alarming proportions.  The tirade is about to begin.

 

 He is not a child.

 

“You treat me as if I am the merest elfling.  I am not a child!”

 

Where have I heard that before?  I wonder if the next point will be that he can take care of himself, or he is not afraid of the inferior abilities of some human bunch of criminals.

 

“I am a seasoned warrior, I do not need to be shielded from a gang of weak human rebels.  I can take care of myself and have done so many times.”  Nice! He made both points in one breath.  I have an answer for that one though.

 

“ I know of your many skills and abilities.  I also know you have almost gotten yourself killed from your own carelessness and on more than once occasion.  You seem to forget that we have spent some time together.”

 

He merely splutters at that and begins spouting a string of some of the foulest cursing I have ever had the pleasure of hearing.  This situation is rapidly digressing, so I step in before it gets out of hand.

 

“Enough!  That sort of language is not going to change anything except for how comfortable you are at dinner this evening.  I am sorry things have to be this way, but I would be remiss in my duties to you if I were to ignore these dangers and let you run wild through the city.  I know it is not an ideal situation, but I expect you will heed my counsel and do as you are told.” 

 

I do not believe he wanted to hear that, for he gets quickly to his feet and crosses the room, nearly knocking over the chair he had been occupying in the process.  He turns toward me frowning fiercely and opens his mouth to speak, but then changes his mind when he sees my determined expression.  His whole demeanor seems to wilt as reality sets in.  He heaves a great sigh and the disappointment in his voice is palpable.

 

“I may as well have stayed home for all the difference it has made.”

 

It do hate seeing him so let down, so I try to think of something to say to make things seem not quite so dire.

 

“Perhaps it will not be as bad as all that, Lad.” I say walking toward him, “ I will not give you false hope and say that you may explore the city on your own, but perhaps you will not need to be so heavily guarded as the Queen.  You do not occupy the same high position in this city, after all and are not so well known by the populace.  I will discuss it with Aragorn tonight and we will decide how this will be handled.” 

 

“Am I to have no say whatsoever?” he asks irritably. 

 

“Not much,” I answer honestly and pat his arm.  “Now come, we do not want to be late for dinner with the King and Queen do we?  We had best begin getting ready to go.” 

 

As I predicted our time together has not been dull yet. I believe dinner shall prove to be interesting as well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

XXXX

 

I yank my boot off and have an almost overwhelming desire to throw it against the closed door of my ‘prison’.

How could I have been so stupid as to think that by coming south I would find more freedom? I snort in a most un-elf like manner and I do not care.

I want to shout and rail at cruel fate. What I have done to be so beset?

I am not a child!

 

When I declared as much to Gimli he smirked, well it looked like a smirk to me and when I continued to remonstrate with him in what I personally believe was a very reasonable fashion, he threatened to wallop me and sent me off to dress for dinner as if I were the veriest elfling.

It is not to be borne; just because some idiots in the city have taken a dislike to their new Queen I am to be kept on a short leash and under the watchful eyes of the Citadel Guard. I would not mind, save I tried to be both sympathetic and understanding of Aragorn’s wish to protect Arwen … I even offered to speak to her and show her the importance of her being extra vigilant only to find my words used against me.

 

I wish now I had not been so forbearing.  Have Aragorn and Gimli forgotten that Arwen is a formidable warrior in her own right? She was taught how to handle a blade and a bow by no lesser personage than Glorfindel himself. In light of what happened to the Lady Celebrian both Elrond and Galadriel deemed it necessary for all their family to be taught how to defend themselves.

That bejeweled belt that she invariably wears is not there for mere decoration. It holds a dagger, which Arwen wields with great skill, it is sharp enough to kill and she would not hesitate to use it.

 

Aragorn will have to be careful, for if he thinks he can cocoon the Lady Arwen and treat her as some helpless female. He may find himself on the end of that dagger point.

I was present once when she threatened to geld her brothers if they did not desist from teasing her and believe me she meant it and Elladan and Elrohir knew it as well.

Still, that is of little concern to me at the moment I have my own troubles it seems.

Maybe between us Arwen and I can show that pair of mortal worrywarts that we are no more in need of protection than they are.

 

But commonsense tells me that Arwen is unlikely to take my side in the argument for she still has a tendency to treat me like the elfling I was when she first met me and she has always had a strong maternal streak which leads her to think I need to be watched over. She once described me to her father as a ‘walking disaster’ after a simple mishap that could have happened to anyone.

 

All this of course is to no purpose presently. Until I know exactly what the threat to Arwen entails I cannot come up with a strategy or argument that will prove to Gimli that I have no need to be cosseted and protected or if worse comes to worse a plan for evading any protection I am saddled with. After all how difficult will it be to lose a human escort in the city?

 

Clean clothes have been laid out for me on the bed and since I will not endear myself to my hosts or my minder by being late for dinner I take myself off to the bathing chamber. One of the things I liked when I came to Minas Tirith for the first time was the size of the baths in the Citadel. They are made of marble and sunk into the floor, the water heated by a copper boiler. The bath is so deep that there are steps to one side for those shorter than myself. I indulge in a little conjecture on how Gimli fares when he completes his ablutions. He certainly would not be able to put his feet to the floor without the water flowing over his hairy head … perhaps I should offer to get him a box!

 

I am still smiling at this absurdity when I join my friend and my hosts in what is their private family dining room and I do my best to maintain an easy discourse and exchange of family news while the servants are in the room. It is not until they have been dismissed and we are sitting back in the comfortably upholstered chairs a glass of good wine at our elbows and Gimli and Aragorn puffing away on their abominably smelling pipes that the conversation turns back to the situation in the city.

 

I do not seek to hide the fact that what Aragorn tells me is worrying. There is apparently a small group of men who disapprove of their king sullying their royal lineage by marrying one of elven kind.

Since I have spent far too many of my young years studying history I could tell these deluded idiots that they should be grateful to have someone of the House of Elrond Eärendilion prepared to ally herself to their king. Their own line is hardly full of great heroes is it?

Who was it who lost the ring in the first place?

Still I bite my lip and say nothing. It would do me little credit to point out such things to Aragorn. He knows the failings of his own house well enough.

 

I concede as well that here in the city there are more opportunities for those with a grudge to come into close contact with their Queen. The way Minas Tirith is laid out means that an attack from the level above the one you are traversing is more than a possibility and that someone walking unattended would be at risk, but Arwen is unlikely to ever walk alone. She always has her ladies and her personal guard with her when she is outside. I do think that having someone shadow her every movement while she is inside the Citadel is ridiculous and I can see why she is so angry over it.

 

I have to hide a smile when she announces that having walked Arda for more than 2000 years she does not need to have an escort when she goes to the privy.

And I watch with huge amusement, as both Aragorn and Gimli turn red when she says that if they do not call off her watchdogs within the Citadel she will turn the tables on the pair of them and insist that they too are guarded at every inconvenient moment. She is magnificent when she is angry and very much her father’s daughter and I am not surprised when Aragorn decides that perhaps there is no need for precautions within the walls of their home.

There is then a spirited disagreement between the trio over what might constitute a suitable compromise for Arwen’s safety when she goes beyond the seventh level, for Arwen is determined to continue with her good works helping with the running of the orphanage and in the halls of healing.

 

I somehow manage to keep my tongue between my teeth while this argument rages between Arwen, Aragorn and Gimli.

I wait until there is a suitable lull in hostilities before offering my own solution to the issue of Arwen’s safety when she goes beyond the Citadel.

It seems obvious to me, not to mention advantageous that the person best suited to offering discrete protection is myself!

 

Apparently the others do not see what to me are the obvious advantages to my acting as escort to the Queen as she goes about her daily tasks in the city.

Arwen tells me she has no need of being guarded by feckless elflings hardly old enough to braid their own hair thank you!

Now that is unkind.  I have been wearing warrior braids for more than 400 years and have never needed anyone to tie them for me.

 

Worse is to follow. Gimli and Aragorn are scathing about my ability to keep Arwen safe.

 

“You?” Aragorn snorts, “You have only to walk outside your door to find trouble!”

 

That is so unfair!

 

“Aye that is true indeed;” Gimli puts in “the lad is a magnet for all kinds of discord. Don’t mean to be hard on you Laddie but it is true and since you are going to be in need of protection yourself you can hardly be offering it to the queen.”

 

This is all said in that tone of voice used by an elder for an erring elfling.  My hands form fists beneath the dining table and I concentrate on the pain from my fingernails biting into my flesh to keep me from answering in kind.

Instead I preserve a dignified silence as they continue to chuckle and twit each other at my expense. Well, I will show them. If they have the temerity to saddle me with an escort I will give them the slip and go off on my own. That may indeed be the best way for me to find out at firsthand what is happening in the city rather than listening to rumor and conjecture. And if I do come up with information that proves of use in tracking down those against Arwen they will have to acknowledge that I am more than capable of going out and about without a minder.

I am recalled to the present by Gimli recommending me to stop sulking and to come out of the sullens. Really can they not see the difference between a fit of pique and deep thought?

 

Apparently not for Gimli announces that I might be better off in bed than glowering at the King and Queen.

That is the final insult, and I am now determined to show my minders that I am more than capable of taking care of myself without the need of supervision and be-damned to any consequences on my return.

 

XXXX

 

 

 

The air in the room is nearly electric with emotion and even though I know it is inappropriate, I have an uncanny desire to laugh.  Legolas is pouting like an elfling who has been denied a treat, Arwen is glaring and postulating a warrior about to engage in battle and Aragorn cringes like a frightened cur every time his wife offers him one of her dagger-shooting looks.  The situation in the city is serious. Or at least we fear it is serious, but the ludicrousness of how we would look to anyone who happened to walk in right now strikes me as hilarious.  I take a sip of wine to hide my mirth and keep myself under control, but almost spew it across the room when Legolas offers to guard the Queen himself!  Now there is a fabulous idea.  The Lady is being threatened because of her elvish heritage, she has dozens of Ladies in waiting willing to follow her anywhere, we have hundreds of Citadel guards at our fingertips, but we should choose the only other elf in the whole city to guard her.  It makes perfect sense!

 

I manage to swallow my amusement, but when Arwen declares she will not be guarded by an elfling who still needs help tying his braids, I can no longer control it.  A snort escapes me, and then a chuckle.  I glance at Legolas and see the scathing look he is giving me and instead of settling me as I had hoped, it makes me cackle even harder.  It must be contagious for Aragorn starts to laugh along with me, and even Arwen stops glowering long enough to smile.  Aragorn voices his doubts about the elfling’s ability to step outside without attracting trouble and I have to agree with that for I have had first hand experience with his proclivity for getting into scrapes.  The three of us continue smiling fondly, while Legolas glares determinedly down at the table.  Aragorn’s attempt at teasing him out of his foul mood fails miserably, so I try appealing to his sense of reason.

 

“Don’t mean to be hard on you Laddie but it is true and since you are going to be in need of protection yourself you can hardly be offering it to the queen.”

 

The only response this elicits is more pouting which he manages to hang onto even when the Queen offers an apology for her earlier words and thanks him for his kind offer, explaining why it cannot work.  He does not even acknowledge her words, so she just shrugs and mercifully changes the subject to the more pleasant topic of the plans for the upcoming celebration, speculating on when her brothers will be arriving along with to Hobbits.  We have managed to polish off a bottle of wine and are debating about opening another, when I begin trying to catch Legolas’ eye to indicate that it is time to stop moping and join in the conversation.  He meticulously ignores my efforts so I finally say it out loud.

 

“It is about time you gave up sulking, Elfling and join the rest of us.”

 

This does manage to get him to look my way, but I feel almost like ducking the dark glower he throws me.  Perhaps we had better just leave.  He does not appreciate my saying that he’d be better calling it an early night than to put so much effort in giving us all dirty looks, but he must hear me for he gets to his feet and briefly nods to our hosts before following me out into the corridor.

 

 

Our walk back is silent and I hate that our first evening together is ending like this, but I seem to be unable to stop the steady decline. Once we step inside, I do not hesitate to send him to bed, even though it is quite early and I know this will not endear me to him but I do not think further conversation will get us anywhere.  I do not like where this evening is leading, and I think it better to end it now than to let it get progressively worse and end with me having to carry out my earlier threats.  He must be having a moment of reasonableness himself, for he doesn’t even complain when I pull him down and kiss his forehead before shooing him into the bedchamber.  He goes without further discussion, and I consider turning in myself.

 

But as I stand at my window looking down at the city, I find I am too restless to sleep.  Somewhere out there is the group of very stupid dissidents who have managed to ruin what should have been an enjoyable reunion.  I find I am quite angry, thinking about it.  Why should Legolas have to be kept miserable, under our smothering watch?  Why should Lady Arwen have to fear for her life, and that of her ladies, every time she wishes to enjoy her gardens or work in her charities?  Why should the King have to worry every time he lets his wife out of his sight or hears a strange sound within the very walls of his own home?  By the time I turn back toward the room, I have made up my mind. Something must be done about this, and I am just the dwarf to do it! 

 

It will take some planning, but I am used to that.  Dwarves are the best planners after all, and I have plenty of time to figure this out.  Now where to start?  I won’t find any information from inside the citadel.  The first order of business is to go out into the city itself and open my ears.  I know the best places to go to hear things.  Where the ale flows, the tongue loosens. I shall begin by taking myself to the third level of the city, where there are several heavily frequented drinking establishments. Perhaps tomorrow night will do, but why wait?  It is not as if I will be able to sleep for a long while this night anyway.  I do not intend to tell Legolas where I am going, for fear he will insist on joining me and we will have to debate about that for a while.  No I will just wait until I am certain he is asleep and then take my leave. 

 

It does not take long for all to become quiet from inside his bedchamber.  That is not unusual, for he is able to move silently when he wants to. But tonight in his temper, he was making more noise than I would usually expect.  Still I must not take a chance, so I cautiously open the door and look in on him.  Even though his eyes are open, it is clear he is asleep which is not surprising considering the long days of traveling he has had.  I am counting on the fact that he will be very tired and likely will not wake up to find me missing.  Just in case though, I briefly explain to the guard at the end of the corridor that I will need someone guarding our door to keep anyone who shouldn’t be there out and anyone who shouldn’t leave in and also to explain my absence should the elfling happen to wake up and look for me. 

 

As quickly as I can I make my way down to the nearly empty streets.  An occasional guard on horseback trots by and I see a few stragglers hurrying home but it is not until I have made my way down to the third level that I begin to see real signs of life.  This is the part of the city where there is more activity after dark than during the day.  The street is lined with drinking establishments and eateries, though the latter are all dark.  The taverns are all lit though and one seems to be teeming with human revelers.  I choose this one as the most likely source of information, so I walk through the swinging doors and march right up to the bar.  I order a pint from the ruddy cheeked, perspiring bartender and make my way to a table near the center of the room.  I take a pull from the mug, and decide that the brew is tolerable before taking in the sights and sounds around me.

 

At a booth behind me, four drunken men are casting lots over a pile of silver coins, each one trying to out shout the others with accusations of foul play. A ‘working’ girl, with bare shoulders and an ample bosom spilling over the top of her scarlet dress, sits at the bar, trying unsuccessfully to peddle her wares. Near the entrance, a smiling man plays a lively but out of tune lute while a middle aged female sings discordantly along and looks as if she’d rather be somewhere else.  Several couples dance to the music and others sit in pairs or in groups, laughing and gambling and eating and drinking. And while I am able to pick up several bits of conversations, nothing of interest comes up for a long while.  I am about to give up and move to another establishment when I finally hit pay dirt!

 

There is a dismayed shriek and a clicking of heels as a scantily dressed red haired female comes stomping down the stairs from the rooms above the tavern.  Frowning she huffs her way across the room where she flops roughly down on the bar stool next to her friend and fellow ‘working girl.”  I tune in to their conversation and am soon rewarded fro my patience.

 

“What is the matter Maellenn?  Did Hador fall asleep outside your doorway again?”

 

“The filthy maggot didn’t have enough coinage to pay my price.  I already had my bodice unlaced before he asked if I would work on credit!  Imagine the nerve of him. I have not sunk so low as that!  Why I’ve half a mind to turn him in to the authorities.”

 

“I hardly think the authorities would be interested in hearing your story of time wasted unlacing bodices.”

 

“I do not mean that.  I am talking about what is supposed to go down at the race.  Hador and his idiot friends are planning to frighten the Queen enough to drive her from the city. I hope their plan is a dismal failure!”

 

“Then I hope so too, for your sake, but we dare not get involved with trying to prevent anything.  We are better off keeping ourselves well away from anything to do with the law.”

 

With that they begin discussing possible clients in the room and I know I must make my move before they become further occupied.  I stand up and walk over to them bringing from my pocket a handful of silver coins.  They both stop and put on a sultry smile meant to entice me to purchase their what they are selling.  The one called Maellenn smiles seductively and her friend suggests that they work well as a team if I am interested and have the funds.  I feel my face heat up, but I manage to walk over until I am standing next to them.

 

“You misunderstand my intention, madam, it is only information I seek.”

 

“We are happy to be of service, Sir.” Maellenn says reaching for the silver coins.  I place them in her hand and ask her to tell me all she knows about this man Hador and his plans to terrorize the queen.  She does not know much, but is able to tell me that the small group he is working with, have caused trouble in the past and that they often meet right at this very establishment during the day, since it is the only tavern that opens before dark.  That is all she can tell me, but it is a start. I will be returning here tomorrow afternoon in hopes of finding out something more.  Before I can leave she wishes me luck on my endeavors.

 

“I hope you are able to prevent any trouble to the Queen, My Lord.  I spent half my childhood in the orphanage that she spends so much time helping with. I am certain my life might have been different had someone of influence taken an interest in the place back then.”

 

I promise to do my best, and then head back toward the citadel and my quarters.  To my relief I find Legolas still sleeping soundly and I go to bed satisfied that I will have more answers by tomorrow. 

I awaken eager to get started on the day.  First I have a meeting with my engineers about designs and methods for repairing the main gates, after that I will find my way back to the tavern from last night and see what relevant information I can find.  The first order of business will be to make arrangements for Legolas before I leave. I am not looking forward to that task, especially after the fiasco from dinner yesterday evening, but I find upon leaving my bedchamber, he is much more cooperative than he was last night.

 

I am always a little suspicious of sudden cooperation, but I can hardly question and scold over good behavior can I?  He is perfectly pleasant this morning, even pouring my tea and sitting with me as I drink it.  I want to put all this sweetness down to feeling rested and refreshed.  I still wonder if he has an ulterior motive, but I can find no reason to accuse him of anything since I know he has done nothing wrong as of yet anyway. 

 

His only request is that he not be required to spend the entire day inside our rooms and I am quick to assure him that he may go wherever he likes as long as he remains with the assigned escort who are likely already waiting outside our door for him. 

 

“Oh and stay away from the southwestern side of the third level of the city.  There is nothing but trouble to be had there, and it is not a fitting place for you to be.”  And I do not wish to run into you while I am spying about, I add in my head. 

 

Much later I realized I should have known that forbidding my elfling from doing something was the same thing as putting out bait to catch a rabbit. 

 

 

 


	3. MInas Tirith Chapter 3

 

 

**Chapter 3**

 

 

The sounds of the great city below me stirring at the start of another day are what wake me. I had not expected to sleep angry as I was at the way I have been treated by my so called friends.

Do they forget who it was who killed the cave troll and took down a Mumak single-handed?

They must have done so for at their insistence I lie here, trapped within stone walls, within a stone city, far from the comfort and quiet of my own home, listening to the cries of the vendors on the fourth level condemned to be saddled with a protective escort should I wish to step beyond the Citadel. I can feel my anger from last evening growing once more. I take a few deep breaths and try to calm myself. Losing my temper with Gimli will do me no good at all. In fact the only thing it is likely to lead to is a sore backside and a doubling of the guards about me. I narrow my eyes and frown. No if I am to show Gimli, Aragorn and Arwen that their views of my ability to protect the Queen from harm are erroneous I am going to have to be cautious.

And I am going to show them … I am determined to do so.

 

My capabilities have been brought into doubt, and my pride has been pricked. What makes these clumsy mortals believe that they are more capable of protecting Arwen Undomniel than I am? We are both elves, I have known her for far longer than either Aragorn or Gimli. Her father has sailed and her brothers are not here as of yet. Who else should she turn to than me?

My senses are more acute than a mortal, my eyesight and hearing superior to their own. My skill in weaponry is second to none. If danger lurks in these streets am I not the one most likely to find out about it? If these men hate elves, they may well be tempted to turn their attentions to me rather than the Queen? And if they do I will be ready.

What a coup it would be if I were to find and unmask these villains before anyone else does.

I can just see the reaction of Aragorn and Gimli. There will be no more of this ‘you are a trouble magnet’ or ‘you need protection yourself Laddie’.

No, they will have no choice but to admit I am more than able to care not only for myself but also others.

Of course I will have to flush out these villains first. It seems to me that the best way to do that is to go down into the lower levels of the White City and see what my sharp ears and eyes can find out. There is always someone whose mouth runs on too far when they have had a little too much to drink or someone prepared to sell a secret at the right price. All I have to do is find the right place.

 

Climbing from the bed I stroll over to the open window and stretch, enjoying the feel of warm breezes on my skin. Despite my fury at my treatment yesterday I do feel a good deal refreshed.

 

I had not expected to sleep for I do not fare well confined as I am, but I must have been more tired than I realized from my travel yesterday and not long after I had been ‘sent to bed’ I found myself walking the path of elven dreams. It was not until the first light of morning that I awoke feeling much revived and very much determined to set my so called friends in their places by finding these men who are threatening Arwen.

To do this I am going to have to gain my own freedom first which means somehow getting past my guard dog, Gimli Gloinson.

 

When I join him for break of fast I pin a smile to my lips and greet him with the hope that he too is well rested. The look he turns on me is suspicious and I realize swiftly that I must not over play my hand if I am to gain my freedom.

Then for a mercy good fortune decides to smile upon me, it seems he is going to be busy, working on the great gates and I can hardly hide my elation at such news. With my dwarven minder busy elsewhere my plans will be easier to implement. Anxious not to find myself confined to my chambers all day I try my doe eyes on him and beg that I am given some time outdoors and for a mercy he agrees only insisting that I give my word to remain with my assigned escort who are waiting for me beyond my chamber door.

Now word giving is a serious thing and I would not normally have been happy to promise something that I do not intend to keep. But the circumstances I find myself in are unique and for the greater good I am prepared to make sacrifices, being less than truthful to Gimli being one of them. Of course if I can find a way to avoid the escort I will not actually have broken my word for you cannot remain with something you have never met up with can you?

 

I am so busy trying to persuade Gimli to give me some freedom and promising to keep within his set rules that I almost miss his last admonition to stay away from the southwestern side of the third level of the city.

 

“There is nothing but trouble to be had there, and it is not a fitting place for you to be.” He adds severely as he goes on his way.

 

Now why would he mention this particular place? What is it about that section of the third level that concerns him? I suppose Aragorn has had some intelligence about it, which he has shared with Gimli but not with me. I sniff; well I do not need his help I will find out for myself! As soon as I have freed myself of my escort, I will have to go down there and investigate it is as a good a place to begin as any. Although given that the third level mainly consists of taverns and inns there is likely to be little activity there until well after noon.

 

Having seen Gimli on his way and closed the door firmly on the guards outside who have been given orders by my so called friend to keep anyone who shouldn’t be there out and anyone who shouldn’t leave in’.

The guard had the temerity to snort at this and comment that the man on duty before him had quoted this order to him earlier. ‘Said you told him it last night when you stepped out my lord Gimli’. ‘You can rely on me, the prince will not slip off without a proper escort, I’ll see to that’.

 

I bristle at this and have to work hard not to pull the door open and give the man a piece of my mind, but to do so would put him on his guard and I do not wish to do that. I go back to the window of my bedchamber and look out at the sheer stone walls; I reluctantly decide that climbing up or down is something only to be attempted in a dire emergency, if only I had some Hithlum rope with me.

However I do not so instead I pull on my cloak and announce to the garrulous guard that I intend to walk in the gardens. He falls in behind me and I spend the next hour or so, playing least in sight with him and his two companions as I leap from tree to tree rather than walk sedately along the paths. Yet they cannot complain of me when Aragorn comes out to see how I am faring I have not broken my word. I am still in the garden and still within their sight, or would be if they could turn their heads fast enough to keep up with me.

Having frustrated them quite successfully all morning I share the noon meal with Arwen who asks if I have written a letter to my Ada yet for she reminds me that the elves who accompanied me south will be making the return journey home within a day or two. I admit I have not done so and promise to put this to rights immediately. I also declare that I will go to the barracks to assure myself that the woodland warriors are comfortable.

 

Arwen is impressed by my solicitousness and says so. I decide not to confess that there is an ulterior motive behind my care. It would not be in my best interests to do so!

 

My meeting with my father’s escort is brief but productive and I am soon on my way back to my chambers where I tell the man trailing me that I intend to spend the rest of the afternoon writing letters. He looks relieved, no doubt having heard of my tricks of the morning and makes no objection when I close the door on him with a smile.

 

Throwing off my cloak I uncoil the Hithlum rope I have just appropriated knowing that now I will have no difficulty in scaling the wall and breaking free from my human guards.

 

 

I am soon strolling along one of the narrow lanes on the third level, my cloak hood hiding my features as best I can, my eyes and ears cocked for anything of interest. The taverns are as yet fairly empty, although one in particular seems to have several patrons sitting in the darkened taproom.

I find a quiet corner and settle down to watch and listen. The afternoon drags by; there are some comings and goings but little of real interest. A small group of men are discussing the upcoming street racing which I am keen to take part in but other than that and the usual gossip and arguments between men who have taken too much drink. I learn nothing of importance. I am about to give up and return to the Citadel for I must be there when Gimli returns from his work on the gates when the door opens and a figure I know all too well stands on the threshold. Of all the ill fortune!  I pull my hood further forward and slide down in my seat. The coal black eyes of Gimli Gloinson sweep the room from left to right pass me by then with a sudden jerk of the head, which sends his beard braids dancing return to my quiet corner.

 

There is a quite audible growl as he realizes what he is seeing.

 

Ai, I am in so much trouble!

 

 

 

XXXX


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

**Chapter 4**

 

 

So far everything has worked out just as I have planned.  I began this morning by inspecting the damage of the main gates, and then spent the first part of the afternoon making sketches of possible designs.  I am congratulating myself on a job well done as I make my way up toward the third level of the city.  I can only hope the next part of the day goes as well as the first has.  When I arrive to my destination, I notice how different this place looks in the daylight. While the rest of the city is swarming with life, very little activity can be seen here, but the place I am looking for does have a customer or two entering through its swinging doors. I know I have arrived early in the day, but I do not wish to miss an opportunity to find out anything that might lead to my finding out who is behind the alleged threats to the queen. I am willing to stay here as long as it takes to get the information I am looking for.

 

As I expected, the inn is nearly empty.  There is a spirited discussion taking place at one table about the traditional spring horse race that will take place soon here in the White City, but other than that it is mostly quiet.  It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light and when they do I make a cursory scan of the area.  The singer from yesterday now sweeps up debris left over from last night’s revelry, two die hard drinkers are ordering the first spirits of the afternoon and preparing to settle in for the day, a hooded figure slouches down in his chair in a back dark corner of the room.  There is something familiar about the way he ducks his head as he pulls his hood further down.  I cannot see the hidden face, but when the door behind me opens, it fills the corner with light for a moment and I catch a glimpse of slender hands and bright hair.  I should have known! I have commented in the past that trouble follows my bratling elf, but that is not entirely true. It does not follow him; he seeks it out! I hear myself growl and then I make my way across the room as casually as possible and sit down across the table from my errant charge.  As livid as I am, I know it will not do to draw too much attention to him, especially considering what I have heard last night. 

 

I long to grasp his ear and drag him all the way back to the seventh level and our quarters, but I know I must not make a scene.  Instead I fix him with a stern glare and keep my voice low so that it comes out almost as a hiss. 

 

“Keep your hood up and follow me out of here.”

 

“Gimli, I…”

 

“Save your breath! You will be needing it. ” My voice sounds deadly to my own ears.  His eyes dart about the room as if looking for a means of escape, so I grab his forearm tightly and lean forward to whisper almost directly in his ear. 

 

“You have two choices. You can either, cooperate and follow me, or I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you out. Do not fool yourself into thinking I cannot do it, because I am more than happy to prove that I can. Now DECIDE!”

 

He flinches a bit and finally shows the first sign of sense I have seen since our reunion. Without further comment, he stands to follow me out into the sunshine.  As soon as we are outside, he begins trying again to explain himself, but I am in no mood for excuses. He has managed to disregard everything I have said and thwarted my plans for the day in the process.  All discussion can wait until we are back inside our chambers and I can guarantee he is not going to like the direction it is going to take.  I do not say any of this right now however, but simply point in the direction I wish him to go indicating that he should precede me. 

 

The walk back is long and silent.  My elfling stays well in front of me except when we come across the King’s Steward near the fifth level gates.  Faramir and Legolas had managed to become fairly close when we were last in the city. They seem pleased to see each other, and stand chatting for a moment until I have managed to catch up to them.  I nod my greeting to the Steward and grasp Legolas firmly by the shoulders in order to turn him back in the course of our path. Now is not the time for catching up with old friends. Legolas flushes and Faramir winces as if in sympathy as we continue our trek.  We finally make it to the citadel and wind our way through the corridors until we have made it back to our quarters. The guard posted loyally outside our door stares in amazement when he catches sight of us.

 

 “How did you…”

 

I raise my hand to stop his question.  That answers one thing; he did not slip away from the guard, but somehow left the citadel by some other means, meaning one of the windows.  It is the only other exit from our chambers.  I go to each window, but see nothing and am wondering if he did actually manage to scale the sheer walls, when I notice him holding his cloak carefully closed in the front.  I yank the cloak roughly aside and discover a coil of Hithlum rope, which I do not hesitate to confiscate.  I find I am gritting my teeth in an effort to keep from exploding, but first I will hear what he has to say.  I pull out a chair from the table and indicate that he should sit down.

“All right. Elfling.  Think carefully about what you wish to say and then explain yourself.”

 

A flash of anger shows in his face, “You have no reason to keep me guarded. I am sick and tired of being in prison!”

 

“In PRISON!” I shout, “You were not being kept in our chambers or even within the walls of the citadel. You have not been cloistered inside a classroom or kept busy with meaningless tasks.  If fact you had the run of the entire city save for one blasted street!  I have only asked you to follow two small edicts-stay with a guard and avoid one street of the third level of the city- that is all!  And you have managed to disregard both of them within half a day!” 

 

“I have no need for a human guard and why do you wish me to avoid that street?  What are you hiding from me?” 

 

“If you must know, I have discovered that that particular inn you were in is a meeting place for the rebels who are threatening the queen.  They wish to drive her and any other elves from the city.  I was trying to protect you as is my responsibility.”

 

“I am no child who needs shielding, Dwarf!  Do you truly think I cannot protect myself from a bunch of slow witted, humans?  Am I so helpless to need to be guarded against a group of clumsy mortals?”

 

I hear myself gasp in shock as his true thoughts are revealed to me.  The words are like a knife cutting me to the quick, and making me reel. I feel almost that I have been struck. This is a problem worse than getting tired of being too closely watched.  I press down my fury and speak in a carefully controlled manner.  The words come out quietly at first.

 

“You forge that it was a ‘slow-witted’ human whose table your feet were under last night.”  He winces at my words.

 

“You would also do well to remember that it was a ‘clumsy mortal’ who managed to selflessly pass through the terrors of Mordor, all the way to the fires of Mount Doom to destroy the One Ring.”

 

To his credit he does look abashed at my reminders and begins to try to back peddle, “I am sorry Elvellon, I should not have…”

 

“No you should NOT!” I agree.  “We have worked hard to repair the relations among the people’s of Middle Earth, including the rift between the Elves of the Wood and the folks under the mountain, but you can undo all the good we have achieved with that sort of thinking!  How do you expect those who follow you to change in their prejudiced views, if you do not bother to set the example?”  I can see my words are having the desired affect for he hangs his head and refuses to look up until I lift his chin, forcing him to raise his eyes to mine.

 

“One more thing for you to remember, Child.” I say,  “There is at least one slow witted and clumsy mortal who cares for you very much and will not stand by and allow you to behave in such an unbecoming manner.  You have given your word to me and to your father to heed me and since you have chosen not to do so, there is a price to pay.  I believe we have been together long enough that you know what to expect.  You may remove yourself to your bedchamber.” 

 

As he rises to follow my directions, I remember to add, “And stay AWAY from the damned window!”

 

 

 

 

XXXXX

 

When Gimli sent me to my chamber to await him I knew as he said just what to expect and knew also that I deserved his anger and was in need of his strong arm to at least chase the guilt of my disobedience out of me.

I had no intention at all of making matters worse yet that is what I managed to do.

For when Gimli came to administer my punishment what did I do but challenge him again by insisting I had been right to attempt to find out what was happening in the city because as an elf I had a better chance of finding things out than he would have since both my ears and eyes are superior to his own.

Ai but I wish my tongue were not so prone to running off without thought. For my ‘cheek’ as Gimli called it, led to him blistering my deserving backside for far longer and with far more ‘gusto’ than even I am accustomed to.

 

It is all I can do in the aftermath of that attention to crawl over to the window, not in further defiance of Gimli’s demand that I ‘stay away from the damned window’ but in the vain hope that the early evening air might relieve some of the sting in my hindquarters. I have not bothered to replace my leggings, leaving my rump covered only by my silk shirt. I cannot bear to think of having to put anything on top of my blistered skin, yet I know that eventually I will need to do so for I will not be allowed to hide in my chamber all evening but will be expected to attend dinner with the king and queen.

I can only trust that Gimli will not tell them all of what has occurred this afternoon. He may choose to keep quiet, as he is anxious to find out for himself who is behind the threats to Arwen and thinks that the tavern he found me in may hold the key to doing so. He will not want the Citadel Guard swarming all over the place before he has had an opportunity to investigate further.

I am anxious to do the same thing as well but of course I will have to be very careful not to be caught a second time. I do not think my rear could stand a second dose of the dwarf’s attentions at least not until it has had a chance to recover from this afternoons special treatment.

 

Gimli has a hard hand, a very hard hand and he did not spare me by one iota. After my disastrous attempt at ‘cheek’ he grabbed me by my arm, hauled me over to the bed, tipped me across his lap and with ruthless efficiency relieved me of my leggings and boots then proceeded to make me a very sore and sorry elf.

 

I stare out of the window, using the sleeve of my shirt to wipe my eyes and ponder on what brought me to that unhappy position.

 

 

All through the winter I longed for the arrival of spring and the opportunity to visit Gondor, to see my friends and to be free and unfettered by my over anxious father’s presence. And now all I want is to have him here. I am sorely in need of his advice on how I should proceed with my friend now for I know I have erred and erred grievously.

Not in trying to find out who is threatening Arwen. I still feel I was correct in trying to do that, despite the dwarf’s valiant efforts to bring me to my senses over that decision. I continue to believe that I am the best person in the White City to find and unmask these men. If they dislike the Eldar would not my presence out and about in the city be a lure to them. They would be unable to resist I suspect, and as a warrior I am more than capable of taking care of myself despite what Gimli Gloinson believes.

And despite the efforts of Gimli which my backside so much regrets I fully intend to continue my own investigations if I get the opportunity to do so. I can do no less for Lady Arwen after all her care for me when I was a child.

I know my father would think I should do all in my power to help protect the Queen and he might even offer me his support, although he would not like that I went against Gimli’s direct orders to do what I did. Indeed now I think further on it, he would very likely show his disapproval in a similar fashion to Gimli.

Yet I do not care how many wallopings I have to endure I have made a vow to myself that I will continue to do my best to unmask the wicked men who have threatened Gondor’s Queen.

 

Yet I would still wish Ada was here, for his advice would be welcome on how to proceed.

 

I have been accused of having inappropriate pride in my race, unwarranted arrogance in my abilities and a lack of respect for mortal kind and I do not know what to do about it.

 

I am ashamed of what I said to my friend earlier. I did not mean my words to be hurtful to him. But I cannot find the right words to explain to Gimli why I said what I did.

 

He is still too angry with me over my disobedience. Oh I have been called to book and rightly so. I knew when I made the decision to do my own investigating that I would be punished if I were to be caught. Of course I did not really think I would be caught out and I would not have been had I been a little more observant and not allowed my attention to be caught by the conversation the men were having about the race.

I should have been more careful, less assured of my ability to avoid detection.

 

Perchance that is the lesson Gimli was trying to impart earlier? I wish he had chosen a less painful method of imparting it. Perhaps my brain might not be so muddled if he had.

 

Of course it is equally true that I should not have needed to have the lesson imparted in any fashion painful or not. I know better than to flaunt the superiority abilities of my folk before others. I am not stupid; I know very well that in some things elves are more gifted than Illúvatar’s other children. We have strengths and abilities mortal kind does not but I also acknowledge that men, dwarves and hobbits have their own strengths and that only when all the races work together can we really make a difference.

I am proud to call some men and dwarves my friends. I will even acknowledge albeit reluctantly that those who my father has chosen have a right to check my conduct should they think fit, for they have been given leave to do so by my parent and my king. But my love and admiration for them surely does not mean I have to be blind to the faults of others. Those who would seek to harm the Queen deserve no such respect from me.

I did not like the fact that Gimli made those accusations against me even though they were true. I do not do well with criticism.

So, I let my anger rule my actions and I am now suffering the consequences of that temper: a sore backside, a feeling of guilt and growing uneasiness that I may have done irreparable damage to my relationship with Gimli Gloinson.

This thought brings tears to my eyes and I want nothing more than to go and beg his pardon again and throw myself into his comforting arms but I do not do so for I am unsure how he will react. He has left me here to ‘recover’ he said and ordered that I should try and get some rest.

Perhaps, that is not such a bad idea. I feel physically and emotionally drained and I seem incapable of thinking straight. I ease myself down onto the bed and clutch one of the many pillows to me letting my heavy eyes close and my racing mind ease into reverie. Hopefully when I awaken I will see things more clearly … and my backside will not ache quite as much!

 

I am woken by a gentle shake on my arm and a familiar gruff voice telling me it is time to get up.

 

“Ye have just enough time to bathe and make yourself look respectable.”

 

Looking at my disheveled state in a mirror I suspect that is going to be a hard thing to achieve. The skin on my thighs and buttocks is unnaturally tight and still sore. Sitting is going to be difficult, but Gimli presses some salve into my hands as I limp across to the bathing chamber.

 

“Here, lad, no need to suffer more than you have to, ye needn't worry that I will say anything to the King and Queen. What happens between us is our business alone." 

I am happy enough to agree to that. 

Still, his kindness in offering me the salve makes me all the guiltier for I have let him down and hurt him.

 

Dinner is uncomfortable for me. Even with a generous coating of the salve sitting still is difficult, but at least I am not the center of attention for Faramir and Eowyn have joined us and everyone is engaged in talking about the upcoming celebrations. All I have to do is nod and smile and agree to everything, and if Arwen and Aragorn send concerned glances my way more than once at least they do not ask why I look so relieved when we leave the table and move to the privacy of the Queen’s drawing room to talk further.

 

As I stand by the open window watching the lights below in the city, I hear Faramir mention the spring horse race and my ears prick up. I am very keen to take part in the race but do not let that show on my face as I listen to the conversation between Aragorn and Faramir.

Aragorn is concerned over the possible dangers to the citizens if horses’ race up through the rings of the city, but Faramir assures him that it is fairly safe. The route is marked out well in advance and any homes and businesses that are on the route have already boarded up their windows and businesses can apply for recompense for any losses they occur. " Although," Faramir chuckles. "Most of the families rent out their upper rooms with windows overlooking the street at exorbitant rents to those who want to watch the race close up so they don’t actually lose much money."

As for everyone else well the taverns and markets like the race as it means more people in the city. ‘It only lasts one afternoon’ he tells Aragorn. “And it would be hard on the market traders and others if we were to cancel it at this late stage.’

 

“Indeed it would” Arwen adds, “And I for one wish to do nothing to upset my people. In fact if you think it a good idea, Faramir I believe it would be a good thing if I were to give a prize to the winner.”

 

Aragorn is still not fully convinced but I can see he does not wish to disappoint his people by banning the race so he finally gives way although I think if it was not for the fact that the race is only a day away he might have insisted on its being cancelled.

 

“It is a good way to start the celebrations”  Eowyn encourages, “An old custom revived under your governance will be popular with the people and if the queen is the one to present the prize to any man who wins, that will be very well-liked also and work against those few who have taken the queen in aversion.”

 

Or any elf I add silently to myself, all the more determined to take part in the race. All I have to do now is find a way of entering for it without Gimli or anyone else knowing about it until it is too late. I would very much like to pit my skills against the men of the White City and I know that Arod would enjoy the challenge as much as I.

 

The conversation moves onto the problem with the small group of men who have made their dislike of the Queen known. Now that Faramir has returned to the city he intends to take charge of rooting out these dissenters and has already sent men out into the different levels of Minas Tirith to find out what they can. That is interesting; I will have to be doubly careful now, not only to avoid my dwarf but also Faramir’s Ithilien rangers. As the conversation becomes more general I beg leave to retire to my chamber pleading tiredness.

Gimli accompanies me to the door and I expect him to remind me that I am to go straight to bed and stay there, but he surprises me again by merely wishing me a good night’s rest and telling me we will talk in the morning.

 

I trail off to our shared chambers and for a moment or two I am tempted to indeed go to bed, but this may be the last chance I get to go into the city unaccompanied and I am determined to make the most of it.

The guard who was in place outside our chambers has gone off duty, obviously feeling that Gimli is more than capable of keeping me where I should be. Changing into dark clothing and picking up my Fellowship cloak I offer a quick apology to my absent friend for what I am about to do and leave the King’s House going down through the tunnel to  the sixth level then dropping over the wall onto a roof below. In a very short time I am back on the third level looking at the tavern where Gimli found me this afternoon.

 

I notice it is called the Black Swan Inn. My lips twitch wondering if originally it was called the White Swan but the lack of cleaning gave it a change in name.

 

There are more patrons present now, but the same group of men who were there earlier is still at their table, still talking about the horse race. I decide to take a chance and ask if I might join them as I am interested in hearing more about the race.

 

One of the men, who eventually gives his name as Hador, peers at me suspiciously then laughs as if there is something amusing and invites me to sit.

 

“We don’t get many of your kind in here.” He chuckles as he introduces his three companions, “Are you in the elf Queen’s employ?”

I am not sure I like the way he says the words elf Queen but I answer readily enough that I am here for the celebrations only.

 

“But you know her?” he persists

 

“I have met her.” I reply cautiously and turn the conversation to the race.

 

I am relieved when he allows this change easily enough for he was beginning to make me uncomfortable, and when he offers to buy me a drink I gladly accept.

 

I am unsure how many rounds we have partaken of, but I know that I have drunk far too much of the brew the men keep pressing on me. At the start I did not want to seem discourteous and indeed when they found that I was interested in entering the race, they or at least the man named Hador seemed very keen for me to do so, even going so far as to offer to put my name forward at the steward’s office for me.

 

“What is your name master elf?” Hador inquires

 

“Greenleaf” I answer giving my name in the common tongue.

 

“Well Master Greenleaf you can rely on us to make sure you are entered for the race aye and we will see to it that you make quite a show on the day will we not lads?” he asks the other men.

They all nod and grin and again I feel slightly uneasy, but they seem decent enough although keen to spend my coin rather than their own as the evening goes on. In their company I hope that I may hear something about the group of men who are opposed to the Queen but although the room is busy I hear nothing of real interest.

I cannot say I like the men very well, and I certainly do not approve of the way they treat the women who ply their trade in the bar.

I know many consider me to be naïve but I do know what these women offer. Elves love but once and forever and have no need for such ‘comforts’. But I am aware that other races see things differently. But whatever these women do I think it wrong to treat them as Hador and his friends do. What harm does simple courtesy do? When the woman called Maellenn comes across to our table I offer her my seat and buy her a drink even while I make it plain to her that her services are not required. Hador in stark contrast is both foul-mouthed and threatens violence if she does not take herself off at once.

“Can’t you see we are entertaining an important visitor” he tells her “be off and ply your trade elsewhere.”

 

The push he gives her with these words knocks her off balance and I barely manage to keep her from falling to the floor. When I help her up she whispers in my ear ‘to take care’ before giving Hador a mouthful of abuse for his pains as she leaves with a flounce I manage to slip a few coins into her hand, hoping they will be sufficient for her to go home rather than looking for further customers.

 

After this I decide it is time for me to make my own farewells, and were it not for the fact that I must meet up with these men again tomorrow to get my ticket of entry to the race I would do my best to avoid them in future. As it is I take a cordial leave of them, buying one final round before staggering out into the night, where the effect of the ale really strikes me hard.

 

I have made it as far as the fifth level when a figure detaches itself from the shadows and comes to stand before me. I peer up into the grinning face of Faramir.

 

“I might have known” he chuckles taking my arm and linking it with his as he guides my admittedly unsteady steps up towards the Citadel.

 

“What might you have known?” I demand

 

“One of my men said he thought he had seen you out in the city even though Lord Gimli and the king and queen believe you to be safely tucked up in bed. I thought I ought to find out if what he said was true.” He waves a hand in front of him before adding “You have been drinking.”

 

“Ale” I pronounce, “Not very good ale, I am sorry to say. It has made me feel quite queasy.”

 

Faramir shakes his head, “well it is not my part to scold you for doing so, and for the sake of our friendship and your continuing survival I will do what I can to get you back to your quarters without anyone else being made aware of your absence.”

 

I thank him gravely but my attempt at a bow is spoiled when I pitch forward into his arms. I find it very amusing; he does not seem to find it anywhere near as funny and neither will Gimli I suspect. Thinking of my hirsute guardian makes me feel sick in my stomach. In my present inebriated condition I cannot climb back into the Citadel or hope to avoid the guards even with Faramir’s help.

 

Faramir sees how pale I have turned and he asks if I am going to be sick.  I shake my head but mutter in explanation. “How am I going to get back inside without Gimli hearing of it? He is going to kill me.”

 

“He is certainly not going to be happy with you” Faramir agrees “and it was as plain as a pikestaff at dinner that you were already in his black books. If he were he to find you had not only been out without permission but were drunk into the bargain, I doubt you would live to see the new dawn and that would set back elf and dwarf relations for another age at least.”

 

He is grinning while I can no longer find anything to smile about.

 

Yet I follow him meekly enough when he leads me away from the main gate and up through a myriad of stairways until we enter his own quarters, for he is my only hope of salvation. Here he urges me to silence as Eowyn is sleeping next door then leaves me to sit while he fumbles for a moment or two with a wood panel and then I see a small door open.

 

“These old passages run through much of the Citadel.” He tells me lighting a lamp, “I am sure I can get you back to your bedchamber without your being seen, but you will have to be very quiet.”

 

I am very happy to be quiet, very quiet, if it means I will avoid a meeting with Gimli until I have slept off the alcohol so I step into the tunnel and follow the light as it bobs upwards.

 

“We are here I think” Faramir whispers putting his ear to the wood he listens “I can hear nothing, careful ...” he warns as I stumble slightly.

 

Then he opens the hidden doorway and steps into the room.

 

 

 


	5. MInas Tirith Chapter 5

 

**Chapter  5**

 

As I look down at my sleeping charge, I am of two minds.  On one hand I feel he should be made to attend dinner. After all he knew the penalty for disobedience; I warned him fairly and have made it plain enough in the past. He forced my hand, so why should he be allowed to beg off dinner with the King and Queen simply because he is going to find it a challenge to sit comfortably. I cannot allow myself to become too soft as I am often in danger of doing.

 ON the other hand, I cannot help feeling sorry for his predicament. He has had an uncomfortable winter, a difficult couple of days and a long painful meeting with the palm of my hand.  Already I feel that perhaps I have been to harsh, and making him go to dinner seems almost brutal.  I am about ready to leave him sleeping when I realize that I would need to make his excuses to Aragorn and Arwen.  Likely the discomfort of sitting through dinner would be less distressing to him than having his friends find out what happened today.  No, it is kinder to wake him though it feels a little cruel to do so.  I compromise by searching through my things for a pain relieving salve.  It is good for sunburns and sore muscles so he should be able to put it to good use, and it may help him find it easier to tolerate dinner tonight. 

I give his shoulder and gentle shake. When he opens his eyes they are still swollen and red rimmed. Though I do not feel I was wrong to call him on his questionable conduct, my heart still twists a little for he looks very young and vulnerable though that is a thought I had better keep to myself.  I want to take him in my arms and give him some small comfort, but I hesitate to do so. He has been more than a little prickly since our reunion, and I am unsure of how he would respond to such an offer. So instead I just place the salve in his hand and he glances at me only briefly before limping off to prepare for dinner.

 

 I do not like this uneasiness between us, but I am not certain what I can do to end it other than allow him to do whatever he has a mind to and of course that is out of the question.  Legolas seems to think that this group of dissenters are no threat to him whatsoever in light of his superior abilities. I fear that this kind of thinking could lead to tragedy since he doesn’t see the need to exercise much caution. Even after the much needed and thoroughly deserved attention he has received, I believe he still underestimates the danger of the men who are threatening the queen.  I can only hope that the ache in his backside will be enough of a reminder to keep him away from peril until the troublemakers can be seized.  Perhaps tonight I will return to the third level to see what I can find out.

 

For now though we must make it through dinner and I am hoping we can do so without the difficulties from last night. 

 

To my relief dinner turns out to be a pleasant affair.  Faramir and Lady Eowyn have joined us and their presence seems to act as a buffer to our party. Faramir is eager to see the traditional spring race take place and sets to convincing the king that it will be good for the morale of the residents of the White City.  I can see Aragorn is not thrilled with the idea, especially when the Queen decides she will bestow a prize upon the winner.  I had not known that the race was to be tomorrow so I am quick to suggest that Arwen’s guard be doubled since the insurgents have not been found and the race will be a very public forum.  The king reluctantly agrees to allow the race if Arwen will cooperate with the extra protection which she is quick to do. The Queen and the Steward share a triumphant smile. 

 

Not surprisingly, Legolas has been very subdued during the whole meal. For the second night in a row he has spent dinner rearranging food on his plate rather than eating it, but for now I do not mention this.  I know he does not require much sustenance and I will watch to make certain he doesn’t carry this too far.  I am able to discreetly move his wine glass away since drinking on an empty stomach might lead to his becoming more feather-brained than usual and I am at the end of my rope as it is. Fortunately he doesn’t seem to notice, but just moves to stand staring out the window and soon asks permission to leave.

 

I walk him to the door and wish him a goodnight, promising that we will talk in the morning.  As soon as he is gone Aragorn voices his concern.

“Our elfling was very quiet tonight. Is he well?”

 

I wave away his unease, “It is nothing a good night’s sleep won’t mend.”

 

Aragorn furrows his brow and asks suspiciously, “What has happened, Gimli?  It is clear that something is amiss.”

 

But I do not intend to reveal what is private business between me and my elfling, “Just growing pains, Lad.  It is nothing for you to worry over.”  He frowns further but to my relief drops the subject. 

 

The Queen informs us that she expects her brothers to arrive day after tomorrow along with the hobbits and our talk turns again to the preparations for the celebration. Faramir and Eowyn soon take their leave of us as well and Aragorn and I get to reminiscing about the quest and our time together with the Fellowship.  We talk of how pleasant it will be to have all of us together again, and then pause for a moment as we remember that there is one who will not be joining us ever again.  We raise our glasses in a toast in honor of Boromir whose loss is greatly felt by all who knew him.  We all miss him sorely, especially his young brother, but he died honorably and those of us who called him friend will keep his memory alive. 

 

Before I realize it, the hour has become quite late. I say my goodnights and make my way back to our quarters.  I frown when I realize there is no guard posted at our door or even at the end of our corridor.  The guards must have seen me leaving earlier with the elfling in tow and decided that their services were no longer needed.  My heart skips a beat as I recall my earlier words to Legolas. I did not bother to tell him he must go straight back to our rooms and stay there.  It did not seem necessary at the time, but I fear now that he may have decided to exploit my lack of forethought and has gone back out into the city.

 

 My fears are realized as soon as I open the door to his bedchamber. He is not there. I should have known! Other than my own mother, I believe he is the most stubborn creature I have ever met!  Well no bratling elf is going to get the best of Gimli Gloinson!  I am prepared to go down to the third level and march him all the way back up here for a repeat performance of this afternoon.  Never mind that I didn’t specifically say he should stay in our quarters. He knows he is not to be about without an escort and I am about to make that clear in a fashion he is becoming rapidly reacquainted with.

 

 I am almost ready to leave when I hear a strange sound coming from somewhere below our floors.  Further investigation shows it to be coming from Legolas’ bedchamber.  I step back inside and I can hear something that sounds like light footsteps coming up toward the interior wall of the room.  The Lonely Mountain is riddled with hidden passages and tunnels that connect the rooms. I can see now that the inner walls are wide enough to house a hidden stairway. I had never known that the Citadel had such features, but that is certainly what it sounds like.  Looking around I find something I had not noticed before. The swirled pattern on the wood paneling hides it well, but now that I know what I am looking for I can see a carefully disguised narrow door. 

This latest bit of craftiness is the other side of too much and then some!  My delinquent elfling is about to find out that sneaking around in hidden stairs and tunnels will be no better received than exiting the premises through windows in order to avoid detection by the guards.  I pull the blind on the window to block the moonlight and move a chair over to just next to the hidden door and prepare to strike.  I only have to wait a moment before the door slowly opens and a shadowy figure enters stealthily into the room. 

 

As soon as he has cleared the doorway, I make my move, grabbing his arm and giving it a sold tug.  As I had planned this knocks him off balance and he lets out a yelp of surprise as he falls heavily across my lap. He struggles wildly as I raise my hand high and bring it down with full force so that it will be easily felt through the layers of fabric between my hand and his flesh.  This elicits another panicked yelp as I throw his cloak aside and bring my hand down again. He struggles more desperately and begins beg me to cease.

 

“Please Gimli!  You must stop!”

 

The shock of this plea causes my hand to freeze in mid swing.  It is neither the words that have been spoken nor the voice that speaks them that stuns me for they are both what I would have expected.  No, what has me astounded is the direction that voice is coming from for instead of coming from near the floor, as it should have been, it is coming from somewhere above and behind my left shoulder!  For the first time I also notice that the wrist I am holding firmly in my grip is wider and thicker than it should be.  My eyes widen as realization dawns.  I have somehow apprehended the wrong victim!

 

I immediately release the wrist I am holding and leap quickly to my feet, effectively dumping my captive to the floor.  He rapidly rolls over and scoots backward as I flip open the blind covering the window. As the moonlight spills in, I look down into the alarmed face of the King’s Steward!  I am spluttering too much to form an apology as Faramir hurries to gain his feet.  By the heat I feel in my face, I know it must be as red as his.  I reach out to straighten his cloak but he obviously is in no hurry to let me get my hands on him again. He backs away from me and reorders the cloak himself. We find our voices at the same time.

 

“Lord, Gimli!”

 

“Faramir!  I was not expecting you!”

 

“That is certainly a relief!  I would hate to think that was meant for me. Remind me never to get on your bad side!” he says ruefully.

 

“What do you think you are doing sneaking into our chambers in the middle of the night anyway, Lad?”

 

He flushes further and begins to stammer an explanation. “It is just that I was helping Legolas to…find his way back.”

 

“He knows the way well enough!  And anyway what is wrong with entering through the main door?  It seems to me to be the easier route.” I eye him suspiciously and he looks down before responding to my question.

 

“Indeed you are correct. It would be easier to enter through the main door,” he glances at me helplessly, shrugs one shoulder, and offers me a half grin.  “ I was trying to help him to…”

 

“You were trying to help him to sneak back into his bedchamber without me detecting it! Clearly you were aiding him in mischief,” I accuse him. I am beginning to feel less regretful about my earlier mistake! 

 

“I do not mean to change the subject, My Lord, but perhaps we should attempt to bring back our wayward friend before he unleashes himself on the city again.  In his present condition he could very well decide to scale the tallest tower in the city and howl at the moon.”

 

I step outside the bedchamber and notice that the main door has been left wide open.  Obviously the elfling has used our little altercation as an opportunity to escape!  Faramir sprints to the door and I hurry to follow him.  We rush through the corridors and have just turned a second corner when we see Legolas.  He is struggling to make his way to a door that leads to a flight of stairs, but he has encountered a problem.  The end of his cloak has snagged on an ornately carved marble statue that stands decorating the hall and he doesn’t seem to realize that that is what is preventing his forward movement.  He keeps trying in vain to reach the door and when Faramir comes up beside him, he turns to him for help.

 

 “The blasted door keeps moving away.  Couldn’t you hold it still for a second?” His words are slurred.

 

Instead of answering, Faramir simply frees the cloak.  This sends Legolas, who is pulling against it, crashing heavily to his knees. He gets tangled in the cloak as he attempts to get to his feet and almost falls again causing Faramir to reach out with a steadying hand to keep him upright.  Immediately Legolas is at the door and trying to open it again, only to find that Faramir has leaned against it, keeping it firmly closed.

 

“Let me out, Faramir!  I have to get out of the city tonight!”  He begins trying to pry Faramir away from the door.

 

“I cannot allow that, my friend.” Faramir says batting the elf’s hands away.  “It is much too dangerous to leave the city by yourself and at night!”

 

“I would rather take my chances in the wilderness and all the dangers therein, than return to my chambers and certain doom with the dwarf!” he insists.  “You must help me before it is too late.”

 

“It is already too late, Elfling!” I growl coming forward. Immediately I notice he smells like a brewery and is swaying drunkenly from side to side.  He pales when he sees me, and his eyes widen before rolling back into his head.  He begins to slide down the wall, as I grab his wrist and pull him forward. Bending my knees slightly I heft him easily over my right shoulder and shift his weight to distribute it so that nothing is dragging the floor except for his long hair. Seeing that I have things in hand, Faramir takes this opportunity to say his farewell to me and hastily takes his leave. 

 

I march determinedly back down the hall to our shared quarters with my charge bobbing limply on my shoulder.  He does not even respond when I dump him unceremoniously onto his bed.  He lands with a flop on his back and his eyes open only briefly and then close again.  Clearly tomorrow will have to be soon enough to discuss his current disgrace, for I have no energy left for it even if I thought he would remember it, which I most decidedly do not.  I remove his boots and lift his legs onto the bed and then untie his cloak and pull it from under him, using it to cover him with.  I brush the wildly tangled hair out of his face and then leave him to sleep off the effects of his evening.  I do not envy him the hangover he is likely to have in the morning, or the uncomfortable discussion that we will be having.  He may indeed wish he had made it out of the city.

 

 

XXXX

 

It feels as if my head may very well have come loose from my shoulders and been replaced by an Orc drum being struck by a cave troll. My ears throb, my mouth is dry and my tongue appears to be twice its normal size and thick with grit.

What is wrong with me?

Every time I wake in this city I feel like ‘death warmed up.’ It is a phrase I once heard Meriodoc use to describe how he felt on the morning after a long drinking session but why I should feel like that I do not know…

Then I remember last evening, the Black Swan, the rounds of drinks, the effect the fresh air had on me, meeting Faramir, following him through the secret passages to my chamber only to be met by an incandescently angry dwarf.

 

That memory causes me to open my eyes and I am blinded by the rays of Anor.

 

“Ai!”

 

Whichever idiot left the windows un-shuttered should be hung. I close my eyes again and recall that it was probably me. My memory of the end of the evening is far too hazy for my liking, I do seem to remember Gimli grabbing Faramir and hauling him over his knee, my brow furrows as I try to think why that should be the case?

What had Faramir done that was so bad that he was faced with the wrath of the son of Gloin?

 

I groan, of course he had done nothing, well nothing much, he was only trying to get me safely back to my quarters. I am the one who should have garnered the fury of Gimli I am the one who went off without permission. I am the one who should be waking with a sore backside I shift slightly in the bed and find that I am not hugely uncomfortable, why?

 

When I open my eyes a second time I am careful to shade my eyes and find that I can almost bear the light, as I look down at myself I find I am almost fully clothed save for my boots. Sitting up carefully I wait for the room to stop spinning before I attempt to stand and then struggle across the floor to the bathing chamber and pour a jug of cold water over my head.

 

Shaking the droplets free I am finally clear-headed enough to remember the end of the evening, I was drunk, as drunk as a wheel barrow. No wonder Gimli did not seek to deal with me immediately, I probably would not have felt any pain and I certainly would not recall the lecture that would be sure to accompany the paddling.

So where is he now?

 

It is mid-morning I would think, perhaps he has chosen to let me sleep off my libations and is merely waiting somewhere for me to emerge before he ‘deals’ with me.  Although it is more likely that he has gone down to check on the work on the main gates believing I would not waken so soon.

 

Either way I am momentarily unsupervised; if I am to escape Gimli’s ministrations I must get away from here. I dare not stay because I know very well that by the time my dwarven guardian has dealt with me I will be incapable of walking never mind riding and I am determined to ride in the race this afternoon.

 

Bathed and dressed I find the small door that leads to the hidden passages and make my way back to the outside wall of the Citadel. How fortunate it is that the alcohol I consumed last evening did not affect my memory for paths and direction finding.

 

Once free of the Citadel it is easy enough to slip down to the stables and collect Arod. He follows me happily enough as we go down through the circles to the third level. I am disinclined to leave Arod but I know that should anyone try to steal him my Rohirrim steed will speedily see them off.  I duck into the inn and find the men I drank with last night are seated at their usual table and they greet me amiably enough.

I refuse the drink they offer, I have no intention of letting alcohol pass my lips this day.

Hador looks quite angry at my refusal, but then excuses himself telling me that he must go and get my entry ticket for the race.

I sit with the others and await his return, I am relieved to see he has indeed fulfilled his part of the bargain and has indeed entered me in the race. I hand over the agreed bonus for this service and he in turn gives me a goblet.

 

“S’alright Master Greenleaf, just sweet cider, just the thing to set you up for the race, you had best be making your way down to the starting point down on the first level. I wish you the best of good fortune Master elf, we will be watching for you at the finish line.”

 

He smiles but I do not like the way he does so, nor do I like the fact that the other men all laugh as if he has said something very witty.

I swallow down the cider and take my leave of them, happy to think that I will not have to see them again.

 

Arod seems happy to see me and together we walk down through the streets, my eyes taking in each sharp corner and every place I think I can shave a few moments off the race because I am determined I am going to win.

 

Handing in my entrance ticket at the starting line I then retire to the shade of a nearby wall, well out of the way of any interested eyes. It would not do for me to be seen by Gimli or anyone else from the Citadel before the race begins.

 

I am not certain whether it is the heat of the day or the aftereffect of last night’s drinking but I am feeling a little nauseous and my vision seems strangely out of focus I shake my head to clear it a little.

I am relieved when the race marshals call of the competitors to gather at the starting tape. The man in charge reads a long list of rules to us all; I ignore him and use the time to check out my competition. Some of them I decide will offer no real opposition their mounts are showy and will be fortunate enough to make it to the seventh level. There are however perhaps three or four who may prove to be worth watching. I would normally ride without saddle but today choose to use one so that no one can say I am trying to cheat.

 

Just before the race is to begin I swallow down a goblet of water for my thirst is raging while I feel un-naturally warm.

But once the race is underway all my concentration is given to Arod and the cobbled streets of Minas Tirith.

I do not try to take the lead immediately, holding Arod in keeping the leaders in sight but not forcing the issue until we reach the fourth level, then I drop my hands and we begin the real race.

The citizenry of the White City are screaming and shouting encouragement as our horse’s spring forward.

By the time we have skidded through the gateway and are clattering up the sharp incline I am running a close second and Arod is hardly blowing at all.

The sixth level flashes by yet even here amongst the houses of the lords and members of court reside there is still a great deal of hallooing and cheering. I see the finishing line ahead I can also see Aragorn and Arwen on a raised dais with Faramir, Eowyn, and Gimli standing with them.

Of course it is only now that I realize that once I win I am likely to find myself in a great deal of trouble with anyone of them or all of them. It is too late to do anything about it now and I will be damned if I lose the race just to avoid a thundering scold or worse.

 

 

With one final effort Arod and I fly past the last of the competitors and to the rousing cheering from the guards we win the spring race and I pull Arod up amid a great deal of shouting, people calling out congratulations and a strange silence from the king and queen’s party on the dais.

Perhaps it is the heat or the lack of food but I feel decidedly faint and my hands tremble on the reins and it is not fear that causes that to happen.

As the cheering dies down, I wait for Arwen to step forward to offer me the race winners ribbon. She does not do so; in fact she is frowning at me and Gimli whose eye I accidentally catch seems incapable of speech he is so angry. Faramir looks stunned. Eowyn at least looks pleased by my efforts but Aragorn? Well he looks far too much like his foster father for my liking.

 

I offer them all a smile as I pat Arod’s neck but the continuation of the stony silence is the only reward I receive.

Deciding that there is little to be gained by postponing the inevitable I swing my leg over Arad’s back and jump to the ground and to my horror my knees give way and I pitch forward onto the cobbles and all turns black.

 

XXXX

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

Feeling helpless is not something I am accustomed to. I am used to planning, making careful decisions and acting decisively to accomplish my goals. I am rarely at a loss as to what to do in a situation whether it is a building project, on the battlefield or in a crisis. Perhaps that is why I keep dipping and wringing this blamed towel that I hold in my hand and using a corner of it to wipe the perspiration from my friend’s brow. I do this meticulously, beginning each circuit with his forehead and moving the towel carefully down until I reach his neck. I am extra cautious when I approach the dark bruises that decorate the left side of his face and I entirely avoid a large swollen lump above his eye, the result of his stunning fall to the cobblestone. I do not know if he knows I am here and I seriously doubt if I am relieving any discomfort, but I do not know what else to do and doing nothing is out of the question.

There has to be something that can be done, though Aragorn assures me that he is doing everything he can to figure out a solution. It is difficult to fathom how quickly things have become dire, for after the shock from Legolas’ spectacular collapse, the King had been quick to offer a cause. Dehydration he had said. It had made perfect sense the way he had explained it; too much alcohol along with little sustenance and a hot day had been a bad combination, though it was nothing a little rest and a lot of water would not fix. We had a plan of action, and though I was a little shook up, I was relieved as well. I knew what to do. How was I to know things would not end up being so easy.

Thinking on it now I suppose I should have expected it. So far this visit nothing has been easy in dealing with my miscreant elfling. Even this morning when I left him sleeping off the effects of the ale from last night, I knew that was a mistake before I had even left the first level of the city. As I finished my inspection of the work being done on the main gates, I noticed the crowds were beginning to gather for the highly anticipated spring race. As I shouldered my way through the crowd I caught bits and pieces of the conversations around me. The excitement levels were high and there was lots of jostling and vying for good seats, and wagers being made in every direction. There was much debate over who the winner was likely to be and the names of some favorites kept being repeated. It was not until I had arrived on the fourth level that it had been made plain to me that my charge was no longer where I had left him. A lively argument was taking place about the possibility that the ‘newcomer elf’ might make a good show and maybe even defeat those favored to win.

“I have heard that elves are splendid horsemen and his steed is Rohirrim! I’ve half a mind to place my money on that one.” A voice shouted and everyone around him was eager to offer their own opinion on the matter, though I was no longer listening to what they were saying for I had heard enough! Evidently when Legolas woke up this morning and remembered all that had taken place last night, he decided he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb since he was doomed anyway.

It was too late to go to the starting line to hunt down my errant charge. The race was about to begin and by the time I made it down he would be heading up and with the way things have been going I would have spent the entire night trying to track him down. No the best way was to go on to the finish line to watch with the King and Queen as I had already planned and wait for him there. I was certain he would cross it, likely very early in the race and when he did I would be there with a message for him, and this time I intended to make certain he got the point.

I was troubled and concerned and more than a little angry as I continued my walk to the seventh level. Looking back now I realize that I must have looked positively irate, for I no longer had to fight my way through the crowds since the milling humans only had to take one look at my face before giving me wide berth. I reached the seventh level and saw the King and Queen, along with Faramir and Eowyn standing together on a raised platform, and I stalked my way over to join them.

“Where is Legolas?” the king shaded his eyes and scanned the area for his missing friend. “Does he not intend to join us?”

“He will be joining us, “ I answered wryly, “Just keep watching the damned finish line.”

“Oh dear,” Arwen exclaimed while the King added, “Why am I not surprised?”

“He must have a death wish,” Faramir muttered under his breath while eyeing me warily. No doubt he was wondering about his friend’s sanity after his experience standing in for him last night.

We did not have to wait long for the race to begin and it was not long before the thundering hooves could be heard amidst the cheers and applause. The pack of riders flashed past. I did not have to look closely to see who the winner was; the familiar grey beast and the long golden hair of the rider tell me all I need to know. The crowd was going wild except for our little party on the dais. I was steaming mad then. Furious! It was all I could do to keep from leaping down from the platform and yanking the child off Arod’s back and hauling him across my knee in front of the whole city. There was no chance to find out if I would actually have carried this thought out, because the next thing I knew he had dismounted from the beast and collapsed forward as soon as his feet hit the street.

My fury changed to instant fear as the cheers of celebration turned to cries horror. The crowd pressed forward as Lady Arwen gave a little shriek and ran down the steps of the platform to the street, where her protectors quickly surrounded her much to her displeasure. Aragorn did not even bother with the steps but simply leapt over the railing in a rather unkingly fashion and pushed his way through the crowd to his friend’s side. Without knowing how, I found myself on my knees on the cobbles, speaking softly to my elfling and encouraging him to open his eyes. I was quickly rewarded for this effort, for his eyes soon fluttered open and he managed to sit up, looking confusedly back and forth between my face and the King’s. I could see the moment he remembered what had happened for his expression changed from confused to alarmed, but I quickly reassured him that he was at least not in immediate danger, by reaching out and patting his arm.

Though he was visibly trembling, he declared he was fine and even insisted on walking to the healing ward. After a quick inspection of the lump that was beginning to form, Aragorn agreed to this, though we walked one on each side of him to provide a steady hand when it was needed. We did not have to worry long, because it only took a few minutes for the king to figure out the cause of the fainting spell and the tremors. Lack of water, that’s all it was. A cool cloth for the bump on his head and some rest and liquids and everything would be fine. He left me with the nursing duties so that he could return to his irate wife and explain to her what was going on and even bring her to the house of healing so she could see for herself that everything was fine.

And everything truly was fine. That is what makes it seem so unfair now. For nearly an hour, things went according to plan. I rebuked him mildly and brought water, which I ordered him to drink. He did his best to follow this direction, but his hands trembled so that I finally took the cup away and held it to his lips for him since he was getting more down the front of his shirt than where it needed to be. I could see he was finding it frustrating to be so helpless, so I gave up scolding and concentrated on encouraging him to drink and assuring him that all would be well. The trembling had gotten a little worse and even his breathing had started to seem a bit labored, but I still did not realize anything was terribly amiss until the water started coming back up.

He had turned a sickly green and looked desperately in my direction and I had barely been able to get a large basin in place before he lost the contents of his stomach. The violent retching was gut wrenching to hear and excruciating to observe. All I could do was keep his hair back as he continued vomiting heavily and then rub his back between rounds. There could not have been a drop of moisture anywhere in him, and yet the terrible heaving kept on long after there was nothing left in him to expel.

Someone must have sent for Aragorn because soon he was standing beside us doing his best to sound calm though it was plain to see that he was alarmed. In his best bedside voice, he encouraged Legolas to take slow breaths and try to relax and finally the episode seemed to be over. Our relief was short lived though because soon after he settled limply back on the cot things took a definite turn for the worse.

I was stroking his hair, trying my best to offer what small comfort I could when he let out a gasp of distress and gave me a look of pure horror before grasping my hand and staring at it in shock.

“What is it, Lad?” I asked also looking at my hand, trying to see what he found so upsetting.

“My hair!”

“What is wrong with it, Child?”

“Your hands are full of it!”

I looked again at my hands and still saw nothing. “There is nothing there, Lad.”

“There is!” he insisted and began running his own hands wildly through the long tresses, “It is falling out! Look at this!” his panic rose as he held his hands out to show me.

I looked to Aragorn for answers and seeing his worried face gave me no comfort. He kept his voice low as to not add to Legolas’ terror.

“You are just hallucinating, seeing things that are not really there. I promise your hair is still firmly in place.” He soothed, pressing the elfling back onto the pillows but Legolas’ agitation was such that he would not be so easily pacified. He brushed his hands together as if trying to remove the hair.

“You see it don’t you, Elvellon?” he asked, clearly wanting me to set Aragorn straight about the matter.

“Your eyes are playing tricks, Lamb,” I said and covered his hands so he would not have to look at them. “You should just close them and perhaps it will go away.”

I could see he still didn’t believe us, but he was too exhausted to put up an argument and within minutes he had fallen into a fitful slumber. As soon as I was certain he was sleeping, I demanded answers.

“What is wrong with him?”

“I wish I knew, Gimli. He has no injury, but there is no doubt he is getting worse by the hour. It is almost like he is poisoned, yet I don’t understand how.”

“Well what do you propose we do? There must be something!” I am surprised by the desperation in my voice.

“I need to do some research to try to figure this out.”

“Then what are you waiting for, Laddie? Go! Do what you must. I will stay with the elfling.”

And now I sit here helplessly, doing pointless tasks, while the king pores over medical books in search for a treatment for whatever has afflicted our friend. I continue dabbing the cloth at his face for what seems like hours, until his tremors begin to become worse. I stop my ritual long enough to add another blanket to his shivering form, though they are piled high already. It is another useless gesture, but I must be doing something or I fear I will go mad.

In a while, a soft voice interrupts my thoughts. I look up to see one of the guards who had been posted at the entry of the healing ward.

“Lord Gimli, there is someone outside who wishes to see you.” I cannot imagine who it might be, but he continues.

“She says it is urgent, Sir. She has information regarding what happened to your friend today at the race.”

I feel that I must find out who this woman is, especially if she has something helpful to disclose, though I am loathe to leave Legolas’ side. A solution offers itself if the form of the Queen of Gondor. She has heard the guard’s words and is just as eager to find out more as I am.

“You must go, Elvellon,” she decrees, “I will sit with him until you return.” I take her hand for a moment and thank her and then make my way outside to talk to this mystery woman with important information.

 

XXXX

I hear voices I know, calling to me and do my best to respond, for they sound anxious, I blink in an attempt to clear the cobwebs from my brain and find I am lying on the cobbles of the Citadel.  
The first face that comes into focus is Aragorn’s he is examining my face and I wince as his hands probe a swelling above my eye and he apologizes for hurting me.  
I do not understand why I am lying on the road, and attempt to sit up. With the help of Aragorn I manage it and find myself eye to eye with Gimli Gloinson and my faulty memory chooses this particular moment to reassert itself and I recall last night and the race.  
I am fortunate indeed that he has not already plucked me from the ground and hauled me over his knee right where I am and I wonder fleetingly if I am well enough to escape if he should try to do so. My expression must give away some of my thoughts for Aragorn chuckles and Gimli, seeing me tense ready to spring up, pats my arm and smiles reassuringly.  
I do not know why I have escaped immediate punishment but I am grateful enough not to argue with Aragorn when he pronounces I must go to the healing wards so he can examine me properly. And while I say nothing I am grateful for his and Gimli’s close presence as I struggle to my feet and make my way to the healers for my legs tremble and my balance seems impaired.  
The guards have cleared the spectators away so that my progress is unhindered and when I look around I see that Faramir has taken charge of Arod and that he is leading him off to the stables.

It is not until I am sitting on one of the examining tables while the healers poke and prod at me that it occurs to me that I do not know what happened after I won the race.

“You fainted” Aragorn tells me

Now that is ridiculous! Elves do not faint and I am about to tell him so when he continues “probably due to you being dehydrated and having eaten nothing for many hours. That was foolish indeed. But apart from the bruising to your face I can see no serious injury and I think it likely that after a good sleep and drinking plenty of water you should be well enough to explain to us what you think you were doing entering that race!”

I decide it is better not to answer that presently, because I do not feel all that well and I do not wish the healers to begin examining all over again.  
Aragorn goes off to tell Arwen that I am going to be fine and Gimli offers me a cup of cool clear water to drink. But my hand shakes so much that I cannot hold it to my lips without spilling it. Frustrated by this weakness I make another attempt only to find I am so weak that it proves to be impossible to even lift the cup.  
Gimli comes to my rescue holding the cup to my lips and bidding me drink. I dislike the feeling of being so helpless and needing such assistance. It makes me feel horribly vulnerable. It is probably this frustration that is causing my breathing to become erratic.  
I try and take a calming breath and to my horror and mortification find that I am about to be violently sick. Gimli must have seen the signs for he thrusts a bowl under my chin and holds my hair out of the way as I begin to retch uncontrollably.  
At some stage Aragorn returns and his calming presence seems to help me gain some small measure of control over my breathing although even when my stomach is emptied I continue to be wracked with dry heaves that leave me shaking and weepy.

Gimli tells me to lie back and try to sleep and I follow his advice, hoping that sleep will indeed set me on the road to recovery. I hear Gimli and Aragorn talking softly and know they are concerned but I do not have the energy to even try to reassure them that I will soon be well but slip into an uneasy doze.

I awake with a scream, my eyes wide and my hands flailing about until I manage to grasp Gimli’s wrist and open his hand. It is full of my hair!  
I call out in a panic and Gimli gazes at me full of concern but apparently unaware that his hands are coated in long golden strands of my hair

“What is wrong, Child?”

“Your hands, your hands are full of my hair! My hair is falling out!”

He tries to reassure me telling me there is nothing wrong but I insist that there is as I run my own hands through my hair and show him the hair now caught between my fingers. The terror strikes me full on and I begin to sob and wail, completely unable to stop myself from panicking.

I hear Aragorn’s voice as if from a distance explaining that I am hallucinating, promising me that my hair is not falling out he presses me back into the pillows. I resist him as best I can turning wide eyes on Gimli.

“You see it don’t you, Elvellon?” I beg of him.

He comes to sit on the edge of my bed covering my hands with his own “Your eyes are playing tricks, Lamb,” he tells me gently. “You should just close them and perhaps it will go away.”

I want to believe him and cling to his hands like a drowning elf to a swan ship prow. His voice continues to reassure me and while I want to tell him he is wrong I am so exhausted that I close my eyes instead and hope that sleep will come.

“Do not leave me Gimli.” I beg.

“Sleep laddie, I will watch over you. All is well. I am here.” And for a mercy sleep does take me and frees me at least temporarily from this nightmarish world I seem to have inhabited since the end of the horse race.

XX

 

Gimli's pov:

I pick up my walking axe that I had parked outside the door of the healing ward and walk outside into the warm spring evening. A woman stands partially hidden in the shadows, but steps forward when she sees me. The kind brown eyes seem familiar but I cannot place where I have seen her before until she speaks.

“I have some important information for you, My Lord,” she blurts out without bothering with small talk. It is the woman named Maellenn, the call girl from the Black Swann. I had not recognized her with her face unpainted and wearing a modest high-necked dress and her red –gold curls pulled primly back into a knot at the back of her neck.

“Please tell me quickly then Madam, for I must return to my friend.” I tell her.

“It is about your friend that I speak,” she says, “I know what ails him.”

I am amazed at her words. How could she possibly know such information when the king himself has been unable to come up with a satisfying answer? Still I go with her when she beckons me to follow her insisting that we may not have much time. As we hurry through the levels of the city, she explains what she has heard. The men who were threatening the Queen have been in the Black Swan boasting about having taken the high and mighty elf down a peg. It serves him right, they assert, for winning the prize that should have gone to one of the men of the city. They do not need any elves taking part in their traditions and they certainly do not need a she elf sitting on the throne next to their King. They brag that she will be the next one to fall. It should be an easy task if she is as gullible as this one had been. They had only had to hand him the cider and he had just finished it off without a question. It had been the easiest thing in the world.

I stop her explanation and go back to the cider.

“Just a moment Miss. What does the cider have to do with it? Did they put something in it?”

“Aye, Sir they did, though they did not say what it was,” she says, “I wish I could tell you more, but perhaps if the men are still there you can persuade them to tell you.”

“I can be very persuasive, Miss,” I say and it comes out in a low growl that sounds menacing even to myself. I tighten the grip on my axe and narrow my eyes, focusing on what I intend to do, which is to get answers! I hope those hooligans are enjoying their ale for this may be the last time they are able to drink it without it being hand fed to them with a spoon! I am incensed! Of course I am. If these low life bottom feeders think they can hurt my elfling and threaten the Queen and then sit around and tell anecdotes about it then they have another think coming! I am so angry that I feel like my head might blow clean off my shoulders from the pressure. Judging by the way folks are quick to move out of my way, I must be quite a sight to behold. Yes I am furious, irate! But it feels good in a way too. At least now I know I can do something useful! I have a plan of action once again!

Soon we are standing outside the Black Swan. The party is in full swing and the doors are standing open to let in the warm evening air. I can see the room is crowded with folks laughing and drinking. All are feeling festive after the race and no one was ready to go home after such an exciting event. Maellenn points out the evil bastards who have caused us so much trouble. They are having a fine time it seems, laughing and jesting and merrymaking. My ire doubles when one of them mockingly toasts the winner of the race, but I hold back for a moment in order to size up the situation.

There are four of them and only one of me. Yet they are all drinking heavily and I have the element of surprise on my side. When you are outnumbered in a fight, the thing to do is to confuse the opponent and make enough noise to terrorize them into surrendering. There is a time for peaceful negotiations and reasoning conversation, but this is not one of them! If I am to have any hope of getting the information I need I will have to make sure they think I’m insane enough to kill them if they do not cooperate, which I admit isn’t far from the truth. If I do not get some answers someone will be picking teeth out of the back of his skull tonight!

I turn to Maellenn to indicate that she should remain outside and then I take a few steps back from the door. Taking a firm grip on my axe I raise it above my head with both hands. I bellow a dwarfish battle cry as I sprint into the smoky room and bring the axe crashing down in the center of the table where the men are sitting. There is an earsplitting crack as the wood splinters into a thousand pieces. Two of the men run for the door and a third man tips his chair over backwards in his hurry to get out of my way. Mugs of ale slide to the floor sending shards of glass and dark brown liquid flying in all directions. Folks scream and duck under tables or behind the bar. Only one of the four can still be seen and so I direct my words at him.

“What did you put in the race winner’s drink?”

The man laughs mirthlessly, “You are the elf-lover we saw at the finish line. Why should I tell you anything?”

“Because if you do not, I will bury my axe blade in your repulsive face!”

“You are welcome to try if you can reach it dwarf!”

The man gets to his feet and I find myself facing the tallest man I have ever seen in my life. His head nearly touches the ceiling and he is broad enough to fill a doorway. Perhaps I truly have gone insane but this does not intimidate me. In fact I smile as I size him up. The great difference in our sizes is bound to cause him to underestimate my strength. He will not know what hit him.

He surprises me by swinging first. His fist makes contact and I taste blood, but that will be the only time he will catch me off guard. I recover quickly and swing my axe in a wide circle so that the handle cracks the backs of his knees. This knocks him off balance and his own weight works against him. He crashes heavily on his back, rattling the whole tavern on its foundation. A loud huffing sound escapes him as the wind is forced from his lungs. Before he can regain his breath I have my axe handle pressed down on his breastbone and one of my two throwing axes in my hand. He thrashes about and flails his arms. His eyes widen in shock when he realizes he is unable to get up off his back. No doubt the tremendous amount of ale in him is not helping his cause. Trying to look as crazed as possible I take careful aim with my throwing axe.

“What did you put in the drink?”

“Put down your axe, Dwarf. Only a coward would use weapons against an unarmed man.”

“Too bad you aren’t fighting a real brave son of a bitch.” I reply shifting the axe in my hand to achieve maximum swing.

“I believe you are bluffing,” he sneers, “you don’t have the guts to kill me!”

I give him my best maniacal smirk, “You better pray that’s true, Maggot.” I aim the axe right between his eyes and raise it back as if to hurl it.

“Wait!” he cries in a panic, “I will tell you!”

“Say it quickly then before I change my mind.”

“Pocket! It is in my pocket. Just put down the axe!”

“I will put it down as soon as you hand over the contents of your pocket.”

Hastily he complies, handing me a handful of coins, along with a bundle wrapped in a piece of white cloth. I take it from him and place it in my own pocket before freeing him and making my way back out into the warm spring night. I give the Black Swan one final look. I must remember to tell Aragorn to compensate the owner for the table.

I am hurrying my way back to the seventh level when a guard on horseback offers me a ride, which I am more than happy to accept. I do not wait for him to give me a hand down when we stop outside the house of healing. I jump to the ground and wave my thanks and dash back inside.

I hear the sound of shouting and wailing before I make it to the door. Aragorn is physically restraining Legolas who seems to be caught in the throes of a waking nightmare.

“You must be still before you injure yourself. You are only hallucinating again, I promise you. He is not dead nor in any danger!” He practically has to put his knee in the elfling’s chest to subdue him.

Even in his weakened state, Legolas puts up a mighty struggle and almost manages to make it to his feet.

“Why won’t you believe me Estel?” he begs, “I saw it with my own eyes. He had orc arrows sticking out of him. We must go back!”

Aragorn catches sight of me.

“Gimli! Hurry, we need your help.” He turns to Legolas and says, “See here he is now perfectly fine and walking about. I told you he wasn’t dead.”

Aragorn takes my wrist and pulls me in front of him, so my lad can see me.

“Elvellon! You are alive. I thought I would never see you again.” He throws himself sobbing into my arms. I wrap my arms around him and sooth him as best I can.

“Of course I am, lamb. I had to leave for a short while, but I will not leave you again until you are well.”

He pulls back and looks at me with tears rolling down his face, but with an expression of great relief. It changes to concerned as he reaches out and touches my lip.

“Gimli you are bleeding!”

I wipe the blood on my sleeve and pull him back into my arms.

“It is nothing, Child. Everything will be fine now.” I say rocking him back and forth. With one hand I reach into my pocket and take out the little bundle. I place it in Aragorn’s hand.

“He has been poisoned with this.” I say.

Aragorn quickly opens the package. Inside is some sort of vegetation. It is black and spongy and looks something like a fungus I have seen growing on decaying wood.

Aragorn’s eyes widen in amazement.

“Death Caps,” he says and then takes off for his books. “Let’s hope there is an antidote.”


	7. Chapter 7

Legolas' pov:

The foul metallic odor is unmistakable, Orc!

And they have come upon us completely unaware. How could I have not heard their approach?  
What is wrong with me?  
My senses are usually sharper than any others yet today I have failed my companions for I did not sense them until they were snapping at our heels.

Aragorn and Gimli are tired. For mortal kind they have shown great heart but our chase across the plains of Rohan has taken its toll on them.  
Aragorn urges us to run, and I sprint ahead searching for a place where we can turn and fight.

But even as I lengthen my stride I hear a cry. I turn in time to see Gimli stumble. I am about to run to him when Aragorn tells me all is well and that I need not fear for him, ‘go on’ he tells me pushing me forward again.

I blink for my eyes seem unable to focus properly. I am certain I saw an Orc arrow embed itself in Gimli’s back, yet Aragorn seems unconcerned. Perhaps I am wrong?  
I shake my head to clear it and hear a sound I know all too well.

The whistle of an arrow in flight comes and then the dull thud as it makes contact with a body, then another arrow and another.

“Gimli!” This time I see clearly enough the son of Gloin has fallen.

A sob is ripped from my throat, as I see he is lying unmoving, his back covered in black arrows.

Aragorn seems unaware or uncaring of what has happened. He keeps urging me onwards. Does he expect me to leave Gimli to his fate? Why can’t he see what is happening?  
Why does he not believe me? I want to shake him.

“I saw it with my own eyes.” I yell, “He has orc arrows sticking out of him. We must go back!”

For some unexplained reason I seem unable to fight my way past Estel, no matter how hard I struggle. He keeps speaking to me but I can no longer hear his words. All my strength is focused on getting to my feet and going to my wounded friend.  
Why am I on my back?  
I thought I was running, what has happened?  
Have I been injured?  
There are no answers only panic and growing anger …

Then miraculously through the rising mist of my disordered mind I hear another voice, a voice I have come to love and rely on.

“Here now laddie!”

“Elvellon!” The relief is almost unbearable. I throw myself into his arms uncaring that tears are pouring down my face and feel him wrap his arms about me soothing me with soft words. “You are alive!”

“Of course I’m alive, Lamb. I had to leave for a short while, but I will not leave you again until you are well.”

Relief makes me feel giddy I pull back slightly wanting to look at that familiar face and then notice blood on his lip. He is hurt …

“Gimli you are bleeding!”

 

“It is nothing, Child. Everything will be fine now.”

He rocks me back and forth and I let him I am so relieved that he is here and safe, I do not understand what made me think he was being attacked. I seem unable to string two consecutive thoughts together. It is very disconcerting.  
Aragorn and Gimli are talking together over my head. I hear Aragorn say something about ‘hallucinations’ and ‘poisoned’ I want to ask what they are talking about but while I try to frame a question Aragorn is gone and it is too late.

 

Gimli smiles reassuringly at me and pours out some water into a goblet. “Here try and take a little water, lamb, no … no let me hold the cup.” Gimli seems to sense my discomfort at my helplessness for he adds “there is none here but me to see. Good lad, just a little more, there, now let me get this bed more comfortable for ye.”

The door opens again and Arwen comes in hurrying to help Gimli lift me so that they can smooth the sheets and turn the pillows. I cannot recall ever being as weak as this before and I do not like the feeling at all.

A cool hand is placed on my brow and Arwen smiles down at me adding her voice to that of my friend telling me I need to rest.  
Gimli urges me to lie back and rest but I am afraid to sleep. I do not want to be assailed by any more dark dreams nor do I wish to be left alone.

I say nothing of this fear however but settle down more comfortably because that is what they wish. I will not sleep however for I fear the return of the terrors that fill my head.

Thinking me sleeping they converse quietly. I cannot hear all they say but it has something to do with the inn Gimli and I visited and again the word poison is used. Gimli gives a deep satisfied chuckle in answer to one of Arwen’s questions.

“Like most of his kind he turned out to be a coward when it came to his own personal safety. He didn’a appreciate having my axe in his face.”

More words are exchanged then Arwen gets to her feet, “I will inform Faramir of what you have found out and he can either arrest the men or keep watch over them until Estel is available to decide what he wishes to do with them. We do not want them slipping out of the city for they will only return another time and try to cause trouble again. I will not conceal from you that I would very much like to see them bought to book yet I would spare Legolas from hearing some of what they say of him if we can. He would not wish to know they had caught him so easily. Gullible you said? Ai, but his pride is going to be severely dented I fear.”

The door closes quietly behind her and I frown. Gullible? Me? I do not understand. I want to ask Gimli what has happened but my head aches and I cannot think straight and worse my body seems incapable of doing what it normally does.  
My arms and legs feel heavy and unresponsive. The little water that Gimli urged me to swallow roils in my empty stomach and I wonder if I am going to be sick again.

My breathing is erratic and I feel hot and uncomfortable. I shift in the bed as my bladder signals that I am urgently in need of the privy.

Gimli sees me shifting and immediately asks me what is amiss.

“I wish to get up” I tell him

“Don’t be daft child.”

“I must get up.” I insist, dragging my legs to the side of the bed in preparation of standing.

“Here now, you stay right where you are.”

Gimli’s heavy hand is placed on my chest and I am so weakened that I cannot even push myself upright. “Gimli,” I beg, “I need to, I have to …”

My eyes go past him to the door of the bathing chamber and he chuckles as he realizes what it is I need.

He searches in the bedside cabinet and pulls out a strangely shaped bottle and I blush up to the tips of my ears as he holds it out to me.  
There is absolutely no way I am going to use that thing. I am sure I can manage to make it to the privy I may be weak but I will not allow myself to be so humiliated.

“Laddie, if you need to relieve yourself this is the only way you are going to do it” Gimli growls, “Now stop being so foolish, else you may end up being even more embarrassed if ye leave it too late and wet the bed through your obstinacy. Let me help you.”

“No, no I won’t, I won’t” I splutter thoroughly mortified.

“Aye, but you will.” His voice is soft but I recognize the gleam in his coal black eyes. “ "Ye can either let me help ye or I can call the healer on duty to do it, but make your mind up to it laddie. One way or another you will make use of this bottle and anything else you might need for there is no way you are getting out of this bed.”

I want desperately to tell him to go to Mordor, that I will get out of this bed with or without his aid but I have so little strength that I cannot even sit up unaided and as I slump back into my pillows defeated Gimli nods and says “Good lad, you just lay still and let me do what is needful.”

I have never, never been so embarrassed and so lacking in the ability to care for myself. To think that I am brought to this; dependent for my most basic needs on others.  
While Gimli insists that my weakness is temporary and nothing to be concerned over, I find myself wanting to weep, so desperate have I become.

Having cleaned me up and tucked the covers back in around me he comes to sit beside me once more smiling sympathetically. “There is no shame in needing help, child” he tells me.

“I do not like it” I mutter fretfully

“No, none of us does.” He chuckles “But if ye do as you are told and rest, I am sure Aragorn will soon find a way of making you well again.”

These words remind me of what I overheard earlier “Have I been poisoned?”

“We believe so, and now that we know what was used, Aragorn is seeking an antidote. All you have to do is rest and follow your healers orders. Now enough talk, lamb. Tis time you slept again.”

I scowl, wanting to know more about what has happened to me but admit to the fact that I am tired. Yet I fear to sleep.

“I will not leave you again child. I give my oath I will be with you. If ye begin to dream I promise I will wake you. Here, take my hand. Close your eyes now. Gimli is here and all is well.”  
I try very hard not to sleep but Gimli is humming one of the songs he used to sing on the quest, the one that always helped the Hobbits find rest and despite my every effort I find myself sinking into slumber.  
So many questions left unanswered so many things unexplained, yet if Gimli Gloinson is with me I know I am safe.


	8. Chapter 8

Death Caps, he had called it as he sprinted from the room. It is not a very encouraging name for the plant that was used to poison Legolas, yet Aragorn did look relieved and hopeful that there would be a cure to be found. If there is one, I know he will work tirelessly until he finds it. I doubt neither his skill nor his desired to find an antidote, but still he might have thought more carefully before spouting such names. A chill ran down my spine at the words, though I was careful not to react to the fear that rose in me. It will not do to alarm the elfling anymore than he is already. I can feel him trembling against me and struggling to control his breathing as he tries to swallow the last of the panic induced sobs. Whatever vision he was having was clearly terrifying and real enough that he almost was able wrestle Aragorn to the ground, before I came in and helped reorient him back to reality.

It seems now though that that final fight with the king has drained the last bit of his strength for he now leans heavily against me and I find I am supporting him entirely. I pull him away from me so I can look in his face. Almost I am afraid his head will fall back, but he manages to keep it upright, though that is probably the only positive thing I can say about his condition. The contusions on his face have turned a dark purple and the circles under his eyes almost match. His eyes are bloodshot and his lips are beginning to crack, no doubt from the drying effect of the alcohol from yesterday and the heavy vomiting from today. He needs water, but I can see there is no possible way he can hold the cup on his own, let alone get it to his lips. So I support him with one arm and hold the cup in my other hand and encourage him with soft words to drink. He manages to get a little down and I am satisfied with that, though it is easy to see his pride has taken a hit. Of course there is no need for it between the two of us and I try to reassure him that it does not matter, but I do not think he really agrees with me.

The Queen comes in and I lift Legolas while she straightens and smoothes the twisted bedclothes. Soon after I have deposited him back on the bed he dozes off and I hope he will be able to rest easily now and have no more trouble with haunting dreams and images.

But shortly after Arwen leaves I think my hopes have been dashed for he begins to toss fretfully about, insisting that he must get up. By the panicked look on his face, I am nearly certain he is beginning to hallucinate again, but when I notice the direction his eyes are looking, I chuckle in my relief. He only wishes to ease nature it seems. He has been in the healing ward for many hours and I feel a trifle guilty that I had not thought of this before now since he is hugely distressed at this point. He does not like the solution I offer and I have to talk fairly stern to get him to see reason. I understand how difficult this is for him but I’m afraid the alternative would be far worse. There is no way he will be able to stand to make it to the bathing chambers and even if I were to carry him, he would still need my assistance once we got there for he cannot even sit up with my hand laying lightly on his chest. Not to mention the fact that his hands are trembling so that he won’t have a prayer of being able to unfasten what needs to be unfastened and he is obviously desperately in need already. My way will shorten the ordeal and I refuse to argue about it.

I am brisk and businesslike in helping with his personal needs though my heart goes out to him when I notice his crimson face and the tears of humiliation standing in his eyes. Poor Lamb. Of course I am happy to do whatever needs to be done, but it is plain to see that he is finding this almost as painful as the terrors from earlier. I try to soothe him by telling him there is no shame in needing help, but he still looks dreadfully mortified and frightened at the same time. I take his hands in mine and encourage him to sleep. He fights it as long as possible, but as I begin to hum a song I remember my own mother singing in my childhood, his eyes slowly drift shut.

Now there is nothing to do but wait, which I do with all my concentration. The healers who come around from time to time encourage me to go back to my quarters to refresh myself, but that is something I refuse to do. I have made a vow not to leave again, and I do not intend to no matter how much they try to persuade me. I will not risk the lad waking up again and finding me gone.

Lady Arwen, bless her tender heart, recognizes my dilemma and goes to our quarters herself to bring back clean clothes and some plans and charts I have been working on so I can keep myself occupied while I wait. She then offers to sit with Legolas for a few minutes while I make use of the bathing chambers right here in the healing ward. I agree to her offer since I will be within hearing distance, but still I hurry to make myself presentable so I can return to my vigil. She tells me that Aragorn is still holed up in his study. She hasn’t heard a peep from him in many hours. We sigh at the same time, then share a sympathetic smile. The waiting is hard on all of us.

Promising to send a servant with food and anything else I would request, the queen goes off to prepare for the guest who will be arriving tomorrow. No doubt she will be happy to have her brothers’ support in this difficult time, though preparing for them reminds her of something else.

“How I wish Ada were here,” she says mournfully, “We could have used his expertise. At times like these, I miss him so.”

“No doubt his healing skills are missed,” I say, “but take heart, my lady. Aragorn was trained by Lord Elrond himself, and he will not stop looking for an answer while he has breath in him.”

“That I know, Elvellon,” she says, patting my hand. “Legolas is very fortunate in all his friends.”

She kisses the elfling on the forehead and then she is gone. He is indeed fortunate in his friends I think as I watch her go. And Aragorn was wise in his choice of a queen.

I pick up the charts and try to look through them, but I am too distracted to think clearly, so I put them away and focus my whole concentration on waiting for Aragorn to arrive with some sort of a solution. I pray that it will be soon because Legolas’ breathing has become decidedly labored. He seems to be struggling for every breath and sometime after midnight he begins to cough. At first it is just a slight hack, but before long he is plagued with a deep croup-like cough that I fear will weaken him to a dangerous level. I help him to a sitting position and pile pillows behind him hoping the upright position will open his lungs and ease his breathing. This must have helped, for the spell soon ends, though my level of panic has risen quite a bit. It is terrifying to watch the terrible fight for air and the weakness that comes in its wake. For the first time I truly fear Aragorn may be too late.

I banish that thought as soon as it forms. I must not allow myself to think such things, so I make myself busy seeing to the Lad’s comfort. A healer comes over with a warm basin of water and attempts to unfasten Legolas’ shirt. Turning large liquid eyes on me he manages to plead with a single word.

“Gimli?”

I fully understand his meaning. I take the basin, and shoo the well-intentioned healer away and continue the task myself. As I remove the sweat soaked shirt, I receive a grateful look of relief, though it appears he is too weak to manage a smile. I gently wipe his face and upper body and then redress him in the soft shirt that is in the pile of things the Queen brought to us. It worries me that he does not help at all, and I have to actually thread his arms thought the shirt sleeves as if he had no use of his muscles whatsoever. Thankfully he is too exhausted to take much notice though that in itself is a cause for worry.

The entire night is difficult. Legolas is able to sleep only a few minutes at a time between coughing spells, and his sleep is plagued with nightmares. I alternate between encouraging him to breathe and talking him through hallucinations. It is a grueling experience for both of us and I find myself thinking that if Aragorn does not come soon, we will both go mad. Still he does not come. As the sky outside the window turns from black to grey, Legolas finally succumbs to exhaustion and falls into a deeper slumber. Still he does not come. Sunlight brightens the room and a servant brings me a tray with food that grows cold on the bedside table. Still he does not come. I am just wondering if I should send someone out to seek the king when, finally, finally he comes.

I am almost afraid to look at his face for fear he has given up and is bringing us bad news, but when I get up the courage to look I am greatly heartened by the smile that plays about his lips.

“Do not beat around the bush, Lad. Tell me quickly what you have discovered for I cannot bear another moment of waiting.”

“It is good news, Gimli. I have finally found mention of an antidote. The plant you brought me is a type of toxic fungus commonly known as death cap mushrooms. The toxin is especially insidious and can affect every system in the body. Without an antidote, it inevitably ends in…,” he looks at me, “well it ends in the ceasing of certain vital body functions.”

“You mean without it he might not have made it?” I ask, feeling sick.

“Let’s just say it is a good thing you managed to make the son of an orc who did this to him confess.” He laughs wryly.

It is also fortunate that a very observant call girl bothered to make it her business to inform me. I shudder thinking of what would have happened otherwise. But Aragorn still hasn’t given me the answers I want.

“So tell me what must we do?”

“We need to give him large quantities of milk thistle seed.”

“Milk thistle seed?” I ask in amazement.

“Yes, copious amounts of it. Two tablespoons twice a day, ground and mixed with water. We have enough on hand for two days worth of dosing.”

“How many days of it will he need?”

“The sources I found recommended at least five. Don’t worry, Faramir is arranging for the country side to be searched for new plants and for the city to be searched for stocks of the seeds kept in pantries. We should have no trouble finding enough.”

I am so relieved that I feel like kissing the king right in the middle of his face! I control that urge and instead just smile like a loon. He smiles as well, but then frowns just a little.

“I must warn you, that this will only prevent the toxin from spreading further and causing more damage. It will not reverse what has already been done. He will just have to heal naturally from what has already happened and it may very well be a slow process. We are going to have one very ill elfling on our hands for a few days at least.”

“That I can easily handle with now that I know he will be well again. I will have no problem dealing with whatever needs doing.” I am nearly overcome with relief and I laugh easily now. Aragorn also seems to find something amusing.

 

“Famous last words!” He replies and turns to wake Legolas for his first dose of the antidote.

Legolas' pov:

“Legolas …”  
The voice is familiar but I am so tired that I do not respond because it seems only a few moments since I finally fell into exhausted slumber.

The voice is insistent however, “Legolas you needs must wake, mellon nin I need you to swallow this for me.”

Someone is now shaking my arm and another voice is urging me to wake “Come on laddie.”

“Go ‘way,” I murmur turning my head away from the voices and attempting to slip back into sleep. “I’m tired.”

“Aye, Lamb I know but we have something here that will help you get well.”

That does get my attention, because I want very much to be well.  
I know I should not be so desperate but I do not deal well with illness and its attendant indignities.  
It is rare for elves to be ill. Injured yes, but ill, no. I have suffered from the aftereffects of spider venom but nothing has prepared me for the consequences of this toxin I somehow seem to have been poisoned with.  
My brain still seems incapable of working out how it could have happened. My recall is faulty and my memories hazy. Everything seems to be dreamlike, or more correctly nightmarish. I seem to recollect having breathing difficulties, of coughing and retching, of shouting out and being terrified of I know not what.  
I cannot grasp even the most basic tenets of what is happening to my body or why.

Only one thing is clear. My friends wish me to wake and open my eyes and I suppose I will have to respond because I know that they will not desist in their determination until I do as they wish, so I struggle to clear away the cobwebs that seem to have wrapped themselves around my brain and get my unresponsive body to do as I wish it to.

“Here let me help you sit up.” That is Aragorn. I blink and force my eyes open to see him and Gimli smiling reassuringly.

I try and smile in return but I rather think my expression is more of a grimace. My muscles are screaming in protest at even this slight movement.

My eyes close again of their own volition as I try to blot out the pain. When I open them again Gimli is looking at me in concern.  
“I … I am fine,” I croak and even to my ears that sounds more a wishful hope than an assertion of fact.

“Aye I can see that” Gimli chuckles, his huge hard hand that too often is chastising me, gently tucking my hair behind my ears. “Ye are a long way from being fine lamb. But if ye do as ye are bid you will be. Now swallow this down and then you can sleep again.”

Aragorn offers me a small cup and my fastidious nose unerringly tells me that the taste is going to be worse even than the smell. I turn my face away, not wishing to face swallowing such a foul brew but Aragorn is determined and I am too weak to put up much of a fight and before I can do more than complain it has been ruthlessly tipped down my unwilling throat and I am left coughing and spluttering.

“The taste is foul I know, but it will help to combat the poison and that is what is needed for you to make a recovery.” Aragorn soothes in full healer mode now, “You will need to be dosed twice a day with the milk thistle seed and I am going to institute a regime of muscle rubs and exercises to help your arms and legs regain their customary strength. Your lungs have been affected which is why you have been coughing so much and we will need to monitor your breathing very closely which means you are not to exert yourself in any way. You are not to leave this bed until I give you leave.” He senses my growing ire at his words and he wags a finger at me. “Your recovery is going to be a lengthy one, Legolas. You must resign yourself to that. You are going to be weak for several days to come and will need to get plenty of rest and to do exactly as you are bidden by those who have your care in their charge.”

I cannot help the pout that appears at this. Rest and medication are neither prescriptions that I am too fond of hearing about, but presently even I know that I cannot do much more than accept my fate. But I am sure I will soon be well enough to argue and argue successfully that such restrictions will be unnecessary. And if I cannot then I will find a way round them for I know the celebrations are due to begin in a couple of days and I intend to be there when they do.  
However telling either Aragorn or Gimli about my determination would only lead me to being further restricted or guards being placed at my door again and in truth even I realize that I am in need of rest now.

So instead of arguing I nod and then try to turn the subject to how I come to be in this predicament at all.

Seeing the flash in both my minder’s eyes I wonder if perhaps I should have kept silent on this as well but it is too late now and I resign myself to what is likely to be a thundering scold from Gimli.

He does not scold but states quite baldly. “You took in the poison, made from Death cap mushrooms by the way when you drank the sweet cider those men you befriended at the Black Swan.”

“But they helped me to enter the race. They wanted me to win. They told me so.” I expostulate.

“So you thought lad, but it was not the case at all. From what I have been told and managed to find out for myself after speaking with one of them last night- I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but they were anything but your friends.”

“But … but they welcomed me, Gimli. They showed no sign of animosity. I admit they were not the sort of persons I would like to be in company with for any time but to poison me? Why would they do so?”

Gimli and Aragorn exchanged glances and there is an almost imperceptible nod from the king. Gimli comes to sit on the edge of my bed and holds my hand comfortingly as he answers me.

“They set out to poison you because you are an elf, and they planned to do the same thing to the Queen.”

I draw in a sharp breath at Gimli’s words. I would argue with him but I can see he is serious in what he has said and a quick look at Aragorn tells me he is in accord with him.

My head falls back into the pillows. I am stunned, not just at the thought that someone might wish to do me harm because of my race.

No it is my pride, which has suffered a severe blow; I was so sure of my own superiority, my ability to ‘lord’ it over these ‘mere mortals’ who were threatening Arwen. My arrogance is well served it seems.  
I cannot believe I was so easily taken in. How could I have been so stupid to allow myself to be caught up in these men’s coils and then be used by them to attempt to hurt Aragorn and his queen?

My shock must show in my expression for Gimli pats my hand again concerned that the news he has given me about the poisoning attempt is what has caused my consternation.

“Here now, maybe I should not have told you, for you are looking as white as a sheet.”

I manage a tremulous smile “No I am glad you have done so. It was needful for me to know, but I am a little tired now and perhaps I will sleep for awhile and we can talk again later.”

“Aye, we will do so. Sleep then I will be here when you wake.”

I close my eyes obediently for it will save me looking at the anxious faces of my two friends because I cannot face them any longer.

 

XXXX


	9. Chapter 9

Gimli's pov:

“There is no need to speak of it again, Laddie,” I insist when Aragorn suggests I return to our quarters to sleep, “My mind is made up and you will just be wasting your breath if you continue to try to sway me.”

“Must you be so stubborn Dwarf? Our healers are perfectly capable, and you haven’t slept this entire night. I know Legolas will understand if…”

I hold up my hand and shake my head. “It is no good. I have made a promise and you should know better than anyone that I do not take a vow lightly. I will remain here until the elfling is able to walk out.”

He lowers his voice to a whisper, “Gimli, the beginning of the celebrations start in two days. Legolas will not be ready to leave this bed, let alone participate in any way.”

“Then I will be absent as well. There will be other celebrations.” I state.

“He will not like you missing things on his account…” he tries to continue.

“Then no one need tell him!” I growl. “Besides if anyone needs sleep, it is you. Ye have dedicated your sleeping time to finding the antidote for yon elfling. Ye should go and take a much deserved rest.”

He snorts as if this is a ridiculous notion.

“Can’t. There is too much to do to prepare for the celebration events on top of the usual fare that comes with running a city on the mend. My brothers and the hobbits will arrive sometime today. They will be dining with us this evening. I wish you would consider joining…”

“Stop! This subject is closed. Do not mention it again,” the warning tone in my voice causes him to laugh ruefully.

“Very well. There is no need to get in an uproar over it. I shall be back with the second dose of the antidote sometime this afternoon.”

“I thought you were busy. You do not have to bring it yourself you know, anyone could do it for you.”

He brushes this suggestion away with a wave of his hand.

“It is out of the question. I will not be satisfied unless I see him swallow it with my own eyes. It would never do for someone else to…” he glances at me and sees my smirk and my raised eyebrow.

“Fine! I see your point.” He replies rolling his eyes.

“I thought perhaps you might,” I say teasingly.

“I do, but there is no reason to rub it in!” He says and turns his back and exits the room, leaving me alone with my charge once again.

I settle in for what turns out to be a fairly uneventful several hours. Legolas’ breathing is still labored and he is coughing quite a bit yet, but the hallucinations at least appear to be gone and I am grateful for that. I even doze myself as he sleeps and wake with a start when someone clears his throat. It is Faramir, and though he is concerned for his friend’s health, he has not come for a friendly visit. He tells me that he has Peace Keepers outside who wish to question me about what happened at the Black Swan yesterday evening.

With my permission they come in and quietly interview me about all that happened yesterday. I tell the tale matter of factly, but they press for details wanting to know exactly what was said and done, so I end up filling in all the particulars. Faramir snorts with laughter when I tell the part of how the coward begged me to stop and admitted his guilt.

“As I’ve already mentioned, remind me not to get in your black books!” He exclaims, as even the peacekeepers chuckle. His face sobers as he continues, “We also need to talk to Legolas. I know he is gravely ill and I would not disturb his rest if it were not vitally important.”

I nod and go to the elfling ready to wake him, but he is already looking at me with a stunned expression. I am uncertain whether it is because of fevered dreams or physical discomfort or perhaps he has overheard my tale. I hope that is not the case, for he has had enough of a shock today when he learned why he was poisoned in the first place. I had never intended him to find out exactly how we discovered what was used against him. I will have to wait until later to find out if he has heard anything or not. For now I am hopeful that our testaments will be enough to have those men apprehended. I smile as I look down into his apprehensive face. I can see he knows what I am about to ask of him and he does not want to hear it at all. Of course I have to ask it of him anyway, but I keep my voice low to make the idea as palatable as possible.

“There are some men here who need to ask you some questions, Lad. I know ye’re feeling poorly, but they need to talk to you right away.” I stroke his cheek with the back of my hand, “It will only take a few minutes, and then you can rest again.”

“Must I do it right now, Gimli?” he asks plaintively. It is plain that he would rather not be seen in such a weakened condition by anyone, especially these strange men.

“I’m sorry, Child, but I’m afraid there is no way round it. It could lead to the arrest of the men who have hurt you and threatened the queen.”

Of course mentioning Lady Arwen convinces him to cooperate. He closes his eyes as if to gather his strength and then puts all his energy in attempting to sit up. I place my hand on his chest to prevent this.

“There is no need for that, Elfling. They can hear you just fine from where you are. Now lie still and Faramir will ask you some questions.” I beckon Faramir to the bedside and he signals for the others to stay back. This way the Lad will not have to face the strange men directly and it might ease his discomfort in the situation. Faramir comes to it on the edge of the bed where he squeezes Legolas’ shoulder.

“I’m sorry to put you through this, my friend, but we need to know exactly what happened in order to make our move on those men.”

He questions Legolas until he is satisfied that he has all the details and then they take their leave. As Faramir exits the room, Aragorn enters again. We help Legolas sit up, for it is time for the milk thistle concoction which Aragorn says will taste much better since it has been laced with honey this time. Judging by Legolas’ reaction, I think he might have overstated it a bit, for it leaves him gagging and coughing though he is able to keep it down at least. I am still rubbing his back and encouraging slow breaths when there is a light knock and two identical beings walk in.

I recognize them as Lord Elrond’ sons. I have spent time with them of course, but as of yet, I am unable to tell them apart. They speak at the same time and even their voices sound the same.

“We came as soon as we heard what happened, Penneth.” One of them says addressing his words to Legolas. The other, speaking to Aragorn, adds, “You look as bad as he does, Estel. Have you had any sleep for the last month or so?”

Aragorn smiles broadly as he goes to his foster brothers, who each in turn fold him into a fraternal embrace before mussing his hair and making further comments about his slapdash appearance. He threatens to have them driven from the city if they do not show more respect for the king and it is evident that Aragorn is delighted to see his brothers. I can’t say the same is true of Legolas.

He watches the scene unfold before him and doesn’t even attempt a smile, which I find worrisome. These are old friends and I would expect him to be delighted to see them, but that certainly doesn’t seem to be the case. Though both of them are charming and sympathetic, he never warms to their friendly chatter and finally one of them pats his hand and gets up to leave.

“We traveled with the hobbits,” he tells Legolas, “and Sam especially is keen to see you. Would you like me to send him over?”

Legolas doesn’t look at all happy at this idea, but is too kind to say he would rather not have more company. I take this as my cue to step in.

“I think he has had enough of visiting for one day,” I tell them, “His very wise healer says he must rest and he cannot do that with nosy hobbits about nor with the three of you pestering him. All of you, get out.”

Everyone laughs at my jest, though there is a measure of seriousness in it and they see that well enough to make themselves scarce. I immediately turn to my charge and become brisk once again.

“All right, Lad, you have been up long enough. It is time to lie down again and go back to sleep.’

I turn his pillows and help him lie flat again, before pulling up the covers. He closes his eyes briefly but then opens them again. He turns haunted eyes to me.

“Gimli?”

“What is amiss, Child?”

“I have made a terrible mess of things haven’t I?”

I sigh, for this is not the conversation I wish to be having right now. I carefully smooth the stray hair back from his face before I answer.

“The only thing you should be concerned about right now, is getting well and that means rest,” As he opens his mouth to argue, I place one finger on his lips. “There is nothing more to be said, Lamb. Sleep.”

Legolas' pov:

I awake to the sound of voices once again, and once again I have difficulty in hearing all of what is being said. I wonder if the poison has affected my hearing it has certainly affected most of the rest of my faculties.

I know Aragorn was here earlier, because he force fed me more of that foul brew he insists will make me well. I am not sure I believe him, not after he also tried to assure me that it would not taste bad because he had added honey.  
I do not know if he has ever tasted milk-thistle but honey does not make it any the less bitter.

I strain to listen and recognize the deep burr of Gimli and the lighter tones of Lord Faramir but there are other voices I do not know, rougher sounding, although respectful. They would have to be since they are talking to Gimli. Gimli does not take well to disrespectful question askers!  
I would smile except my face aches where it has been bruised, although that at least is healing as it should.  
From what I can hear they are asking Gimli about his encounter with the men from The Black Swan.

I do my best to listen but he speaks so softly that I miss some of the salient points although I catch enough of what is being said to know that my dwarven friend probably frightened the men to the point of death with his threats. I know better than anyone that while Gimli is not a bloodthirsty individual in the normal way of things, should anyone or anything threaten those he cares for there is nothing he will not do to keep them safe.  
And while I may not tell him for it would embarrass both of us to do so, I fully appreciate his loyalty and his love for me and can well understand that the men would be terrified when faced with an irate dwarf carrying a lethal axe and threatening death and destruction.  
Again I feel like smiling but then it occurs to me that Faramir would not be here if he was not also intending to speak to me as well. That is enough to wipe away any desire to smile.  
Having to confess my own foolish conduct before an audience, particularly an audience made up of men I do not know is something I very much do not wish to do.

Gimli comes to see if I am awake and I can see he is a little suspicious of the fact that I may have overheard more than he would have wished me to.  
He brushes my cheek with a finger, a gesture that my own father has used to gain my attention when I am asleep.

“There are some men here who need to ask you some questions, Lad. I know ye’re feeling poorly, but they need to talk to you right away. It will only take a few minutes, and then you can rest again.”

“Must I do it right now, Gimli?” I plead hoping for a reprieve.

“I’m sorry, Child, but I’m afraid there is no way round it. It could lead to the arrest of the men who have hurt you and threatened the queen.”

Of course I should have remembered Arwen. Am I so brain-addled? If there is something I can tell these men that will help her it is my duty to do so. I gather my strength and attempt to sit up but Gimli prevents me by the simple expedient of placing a hand on my chest.

“There is no need for that, Elfling. They can hear you just fine from where you are. Now lie still and Faramir will ask you some questions.” He tells me as he beckons Faramir to the bedside and signals the other men to stay back. This action means I will not actually have to see anyone save Faramir and is a typical kindness from my dwarven comrade. I am very fortunate to have the friendship of Gimli son of Gloin and I would do well to remember it more often than I do.

Faramir perches on the edge of the bed and smiles sympathetically at me. “I’m sorry to put you through this, my friend, but we need to know exactly what happened in order to make our move on those men.”

“Of course” I respond as confidently as I can.

Faramir’s questioning is thorough but gentle and I know he is doing his best to shield me from the other men’s likely derision as I tell of my foolishness and the easy way I was duped by the men. It is not easy acknowledging such stupidity but I try to keep in mind that by doing so I may save Arwen from an attack.  
Yet, it is hard for I have never liked having to admit my own failings and to do so before strangers is harder still. I am also painfully aware that I am here as the representative of the elves of Eryn Lasgalen and that their reputation is bound to be lowered by my conduct. I have dishonored the folk of the wood and bought shame on my father, which is something I swore I would never do.  
I am ashamed of myself and rightly so. My abominable pride and belief in my abilities has bought me to this and so I must suffer for it as is proper and right but I will do my best to show that my failings are not those generally found in my race but are uniquely mine.  
I am profoundly grateful that there are no other elves other than Arwen here to see my disgrace. I do not think I could bear to see their reactions were they to come to know of my present ignominy and the way it will affect how mortal kind sees those of the Eldar race.

I am feeling so low by the time that Faramir takes his leave that all I want to do is sleep but Aragorn returns and brings with him more visitors. Elladan and Elrohir have arrived in the White City and having heard of my ‘troubles’ have come straight to see me.  
I should be happy to see my friends, but I am not. I am ashamed and wish they had not come.

“We came as soon as we heard what happened, Penneth.” Elladan tells me. I avoid looking at him, ‘penneth’ that of course sums up his feelings nicely. Young one, to the elder son of Elrond more than two thousand years my elder I am indeed barely more than a child, a child who has just proved that he is obviously not old enough to be left unsupervised.

Almost as if he cannot bear to look at me anymore Elladan turns to Aragorn and Elrohir joins him in teasing their young foster brother who just happens now to be the King of Gondor and husband to their beloved sister.  
Even so I know they are both observing me taking in my condition no doubt making judgments and finding me wanting. Who would not? I want to pull the sheets over my head but I do not. I must sit and endure and hope that my ordeal will end sooner rather than later.  
Thanks to Gimli it does so. He also vetoes any further visitors saying that I am too tired and eventually I am left alone with my guardian who urges me to sleep. Before I can do so though I feel I have to try and make my apologies at least to Gimli. I owe him that much for his unfailing kindness to me and my conscience pains me for I know I have caused him much trouble and pain. Not to mention going against his direct orders as I did.

“Gimli?”

“What is amiss, Child?”

“I have made a terrible mess of things haven’t I?”

He sighs, smoothing back my hair from my face.

“The only thing you should be concerned about right now, is getting well and that means rest,” As I open my mouth to argue, he places one finger on my lips. “There is nothing more to be said, Lamb. Sleep.”

I want to sleep. I really do. For at least in slumber I will not have to look into the faces of those I have let down so badly but sleep is hard to come by for me.  
I feel sick, for while his kindness towards me has not abated I note that Gimli did not deny my words about the mess I have made and to realize that I may have lost his good opinion is harder almost than anything to bear.  
My eyes fill with tears but do not wish to make any more of a spectacle of myself than I already have since I came to Gondor.  
But despite my every effort a few rogue tears leak through my tightly closed eyes and of course Gimli notices.

“Here now laddie, what’s amiss? Are ye feeling sick again? Is the pain worse? Shall I call Aragorn back?”

I open my eyes and see his honest concern “No, no, I am just being foolish.”

Gimli frowns and places a hand on either side of my face. His black eyes seem capable of seeing deep inside my soul.

“What maggot have ye got now in that flighty head of yours I wonder,” He pauses. “Is it having to tell Faramir what happened? There is no embarrassment in telling the truth lamb, especially when that truth will prevent further harm to others.”

“No it is not that although I admit to deserving the embarrassment and much more.”

My words seem to anger Gimli “Embarrassment, be-damned. I tell you plain to put it out of your mind now. It is done with. Faramir will deal with the miscreants and you will not need to see them again.”

“I know and I am grateful to him for that.”

“As you should be and you need to tell him that the next time you see him. So if it is not that, what is it?” He tugs on his beard, as he always does when in deep thought. “You were very quiet when the son’s of Elrond came in.” He frowns down at me. “You may as well tell me lad, it’s clear you are not going to be able to rest until you do and I am in no mood to play guessing games with you.”

When I don’t answer his eyes narrow and a growl issues from deep in his throat it is sufficient a reminder to me that his patience is not infinite.

I can see that he is determined to find out what is causing my distress yet still I hesitate to tell him the truth so I lie.  
I tell him that I am feeling guilty about him missing the upcoming celebrations and that the arrival of Elladan and Elrohir reminded me of that fact. It is not wholly untrue, I am sorry he has said he will stay with me rather than attend the one year celebrations in the city.  
I am not certain that I manage to convince him but by dint of adding a few strategic yawns and grimaces he becomes caught up in my immediate needs and the subject is allowed to drop at least for now, but knowing how single-minded Gimli can be I know it is likely to only be a temporary reprieve and at some stage I am going to have to admit to the real reason behind my reaction to the twins arrival.


	10. Chapter 10

I wake up at dawn feeling much refreshed and greatly encouraged when I realize the reason I have slept so well in the movable cot that has been moved in for me, is that Legolas’ symptoms seem to be abating. His breathing was much improved last night and he wasn’t bothered by night terrors or hallucinations. He has been able to rest quietly, which is just the thing needed to get him on the road to recovery. I expect he will feel much improved today, so I am surprised when he wakes up that he looks just as dismal as ever if not more so. Perhaps I was expecting too much. After all he has been gravely ill and Aragorn said the toxin was deadly without the antidote. He said we should expect a slow recovery. I know all that but still I cannot help feeling a little disappointed and concerned.

Aragorn arrives with the first daily dose of the antidote and with good news as well. First off he tells us that the searchers have managed to come up with enough of the milk thistle seed to ensure that we will have the prescribed number of doses available. Now that is good news indeed, but Legolas doesn’t seem to see it that way. Apparently he never knew there was a shortage at all.

“What do you mean that the searchers have found enough?” he asks in surprise.

“We don’t keep such tremendous amounts of the seed on hand,” Aragorn says, “ Faramir has arranged teams of folks to scour the countryside and the city in order to find all that we needed.”

Legolas looks more distressed than relieved at this news. Perhaps he is uncomfortable with the number of people who have had to be involved. He doesn’t say any such thing but simply politely requests that the King thank Faramir for all his hard work. That is when Aragorn tells us even better news. Because of our testimony and that of witnesses from the Black Swan, the troublemakers have been identified and arrested. That is information to cheer about and my relief is so great that I am not far from doing just that. By the look on the king’s face, I cans see he is in accord with me, no doubt happy to be able to lessen his security measures on his less than cooperative wife. Legolas again looks less enthusiastic than I would have thought, but again is mannerly enough to wish to thank those who took care of things.

“Please thank for me those involved in taking care of this situation, Estel,” he says, “and especially thank Faramir again. I appreciate very much what he has done.”

He talks like he will never see Faramir again, which is ridiculous.

“Why can ye not thank him yourself, Lad? I am certain he will stop in sometime today.” I remind him.

He looks unhappy at this thought.

“I…I would rather he not come.”

“Why ever not, Child?”

“I do not wish to be a bother.” He explains quickly.

“Pah! That is absurd!” I growl, “No one thinks you are a bother. Get that notion out of your head.”

“Well it is just…just…I am very tired.” He looks at me, hopefully but I am not buying it.

“You slept all night and I am certain he would only stay a few minutes…” I cut off my words when Aragorn touches my arm.

“It is all right Gimli,” he says, “it is not unusual for him to be tired and if he doesn’t feel up to visitors then we will just keep them away for now.”

“Of course,” I say though somewhat suspiciously, “if that is what you prefer.”

Aragorn stays a bit longer but cannot engage Legolas in conversation no matter how much he teases or jests with him. Finally he gives Legolas the cup containing the bitter drink, and I am gratified to see that he is able to manage to hold the cup with only a little assistance from the king. When Aragorn leaves I can see more relief on the elfling’s face than when he learned of the arrest of those men. There is definitely something up and I scrutinize his face as I try to figure it out, finally I just decide to ask.

“Is there something ye are not telling me, Laddie?”

“There is nothing to tell Elvellon,” he says, but I can see he is hedging. Still remembering Aragorn’s words I do not push the issue. He closes his eyes, but I have a feeling he is only pretending to sleep to avoid my questions.

His behavior is certainly odd and worrying. He is clearly getting better, yet he looks worse than before. He has gotten nothing but good news today, yet he has not even cracked a smile. The celebrations kick off tomorrow, and he has not even mentioned it or argued that he will be well enough to attend. Now that is not right, for he would normally insist he was fine even if he were skewered on an orc blade. I had expected to have to argue and threaten to prevent him from attempting to get out of bed, but he has been thoroughly cooperative. Granted he is still very weak and would likely find it impossible to do so, but I would have expected him at least to argue about it. Yes it is very worrying indeed.

His behavior becomes even stranger when the Queen comes in the afternoon.

“I know you did not want visitors, but I had to see how you were faring, and I will stay but a moment.” She says squeezing his hands.

He glances at her briefly but says nothing at all. She tries a few more angles, talking about the goings on about the Citadel and his friends who so badly wish to visit him, about the arrest of the men. Nothing seems to grab his interest. In fact he refuses to even catch her eye and Lady Arwen finally gives up with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Here you have said you did not want visitors and I have forced myself on you when you are clearly feeling tired and ill. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better time to chat.” She says with a warm smile and then exits the room. I have seen quite enough. It is time for this charade to end and I’m about to end it. I go to sit on the edge of his bed and when he tries to turn his face from me as well, I do not allow it but turn him back so he must face me.

“Do not try to pretend nothing is wrong for I can see there is something. You are behaving oddly, you have been avoiding talking to me all day and you were not very nice to the queen!”

Instead of bristling, as I would have expected, he seems to crumple at my words.

“I am sorry,” he says burying his face in his hands, but I take the hands away and make him look at me. Tears have gathered in his eyes, but still I do not relent for this game has got to stop.

“Do not seek to hide from me that there is something wrong for I am no fool,” I growl, “It is plain to see that something is on your mind and you will tell me what it is without further delay.”

He gives me a look something between desperation and longing and I can see I have almost tipped him over the edge so I press on.

“Ye may as well spill it, Lad for there are ways of convincing you to talk and I have all the time in the world.”

I sit back, cross my arms, and prepare to hear some answers.

Legolas' pov:

I am fallen into the depths of despair. I know it is wrong of me but I cannot help myself.  
Tenets that I have held lifelong have been proved false.  
My confidence in my abilities and the natural superiority of the elves in comparison to those lesser mortal races has been shaken to the core and I do not know how to deal with these changes in my world.

I have been shown to be weak and gullible, lacking in proper judgment and incapable of taking care of myself.  
My damnable pride, my ego, my belief in my superior capabilities have all been shown to be false, and how easy it was to do too. I was so lacking in proper awareness that I handed myself over to those evil men. How they must have exulted in my stupidity, laughed at my naivety made game of me and I helped them do it.  
I groan at the memory of that evening and worse the following morning when I … brainless, crass, immature, dim-witted me paid them gold coin while they attempted in return to poison me.  
Worse, my reckless thoughtless action here in the city has now put the reputation of the whole of my people at risk.  
And all of this has been done under the gaze of the ordinary men and women of Minas Tirith, rather than enhance my people’s reputation, which as the son of a king of Eryn Lasgalen I should have been doing, I have managed to do the complete opposite, capping my foolishness by taking part in a race and managing to fall insensate at the feet of the watching Court of Gondor.

I squirm as I realize I have likely done irreparable damage to Arwen’s position here as Queen of Gondor. She was held in high regard by most of the folk in the White City until I came here and showed myself to be a complete fool. Now her reputation is marred by my failures.

The pain and mortification I am currently suffering is proving to be a sharp lesson in humility for me, for I am well served for my belief in my infallibility. It is perhaps only right that my helplessness due to the poison in my system has left me at the mercy of my mortal companions even while it tears at my pride.

A pride which has proved itself to be false. If there is anything worse than false pride I have yet to become aware with it.

What I am to do about my present situation I do not know, I only know that my shame is such that I cannot bring myself to face my friends or attempt to explain my present conscience stricken thoughts and fears of their reactions when they become aware, as they inevitably will, of all of my failings.  
I will be well served if they all turn against me, and it will be no more than I deserve, for I am a coward and a weakling which is why I seek to avoid seeing any of them. I cannot bear to accept their kindness when I know I am undeserving of it.

The twins will be furious with me and rightly so, for I have put their beloved sister in a very awkward situation, their foster brother also. More than that my conduct dishonors our race albeit they are Noldor and I am of the Sindar, and like me they have great pride in their heritage, save theirs is honestly come by and deserved while mine no longer is.  
Already I have felt a difference in their attitude toward me. They came this morning to begin the muscle rubs that Aragorn has devised to help my limbs regain their strength.  
I felt uncomfortable in their company and they seemed ill at ease with me. They kept exchanging looks and frowns and I was so tense that the ease their ministrations were meant to bring me failed to materialize.  
After only a short time they made their excuses and left and I was relieved to see them do so. All I wish to do is wallow in my misery.

If they are disgusted with me how much more will my mortal friends be so, when they come to hear of my overweening pride and false belief in the superiority of my race.

I would give anything to be hundreds of leagues away from Gondor but I am not capable of leaving here at the present so all I can do is seek to avoid my friends and hope that they will eventually stop asking about me.

By dint of pretending that I am feeling tired, a deception which only adds to my recent record of conduct unbecoming a prince, I avoid having to see any of the Hobbits and have just managed to send Arwen away when she would have stayed and kept me company. But I know it is a situation that cannot long prevail. I have seen the glances being sent my way by Gimli. My dwarven minder is not someone who is easily gulled, and I know he is suspicious of my sudden desire to be ‘left alone’. I can only hope he will allow me to keep up this pretence until after the One Year Celebrations are over and the many honored guests invited to mark this special occasion have left for their homes. Perhaps then I can persuade Gimli to let me go home as well and I can return to Eryn Lasgalen and never leave my forest again.

Of course that hope is likely to be a vain one for my minder has already challenged me once on my strange behavior and will likely do so again very soon. His patience is not endless, as I have learned to my cost in the time I have been in his charge.

Confused and miserable I slump back into my pillows as Arwen closes the door behind her and if I needed any proof of my weakness I have it as tears begin to fall once more.

It is then that Gimli comes to sit on the edge of the bed and when I turn my face away he forces me to look at him.

“Do not try to pretend nothing is wrong for I can see there is something. You are behaving oddly, you have been avoiding talking to me all day and you were not very nice to the queen!” He grumbles.

His words of censure are enough to make me weep and I bury my face in my hands whispering. “I am sorry,”

“Do not seek to hide from me that there is something wrong for I am no fool,” he growls. He is not so much angry as perplexed and concerned and that hurts me all the more. “It is plain to see that something is on your mind and you will tell me what it is without further delay.”

I give him a look somewhere between desperation and longing for I want desperately to speak of my failings yet fear to do so.

“You may as well spill it, Lad for there are ways of convincing you to talk and I have all the time in the world.” He warns even while taking one of my hands in his briefly before sitting back, crossing his arms and lifting a bushy eyebrow at me.  
I want to, I so dreadfully want to speak of my shame to someone but I do not know what his reaction to my confessions will be.

Yet, in the last year or so I have come to know Gimli Gloinson very well and I know he is one of the kindest of creatures who has always done his best by me even when I have not necessarily deserved it. My hand comes out of its own volition and I grasp his great paw holding onto it desperately and take a deep breath.

“I said yesterday that I had made a terrible mess of things,” I whisper, “but you do not know the worst of it Gimli. I do not want to lose your friendship but I fear that will be the case when I explain to you just what sort of a person I have become.”

Gimli looks at me as if I have grown a second head “What are ye talking about lad?”

I cannot look at him any longer and allow my hair to fall forward partially hiding my face, “I believed myself to be better than those about me Gimli. In blind arrogance I decided I would ignore the advice and orders of those who knew better than I and show them that I could do what they could not. Because of my false pride I walked in ignorance into a situation that I did not even realize was dangerous and had it not been for good fortune I may well have paid for that conceit with my life and it would have served me right if I had.”

“Do not talk such foolishness” Gimli snaps “And do not seek to hide behind all this talk of false pride either. You are an elf, a naughty willful elf but an elf nonetheless. You are accustomed to being able to do things that mortals cannot. That is not false pride, Laddie. That is truth. Where you went wrong was that you failed to take in account your lack of knowledge of men of that type, something that age and experience will mend soon enough. Now stop worrying yourself over something that is over and done with. Now tell me what I really want to know which is why are you keeping your friends at arms length?”

“I can do no less” I mumble, “for they, unlike you, will very soon take me in dislike when they hear the full tale of my doings. Already Elladan and Elrohir are treating me differently.”

“Aye of course they are … couldn’t do anything else the way you have been carrying on, ye foolish elfling. Is that what is at the heart of all this hiding and denying entry to those who have your best interests at heart? " 

He looks at me severely “ You talk of unjustified pride and it is true that it is a bad habit to get into. Such arrogance is something we will needs discuss at some length when you are fully recovered, but it is not unforgivable laddie, as long as ye learn from your mistakes. Now I want you to listen to me.”

I brace myself for a lengthy but well deserved lecture.

XXXX


	11. Chapter 11

Leave it to my elfling to go to extremes of epic proportion. To hear him talk a person would think that he had caused the demise of Gondor and brought shame upon his ancestors and that his descendents would not be able to lift their heads for a thousand generations to come. He seems to think he has committed an offense deserving of total ostracism by all good and decent folks, when in reality he is only guilty of what amounts to a bit of childish foolishness and some misplaced pride. What I would consider to be little more than naughtiness carried too far, he clearly feels is a heinous and unforgivable crime. While I don’t believe such arrogance and blatant disobedience are acceptable, it is hardly worthy of the turmoil he is going through, and he has already paid for it a thousand fold with the terrible effects of the poison.

My heart aches to see him there with his eyes clamped shut, one hand squeezing my hand and the other gripping the blanket so tightly that his knuckles have become white. He is awaiting my judgment, no doubt expecting a scorching scolding at best and at worst, evidence of my disgust or even my complete abandonment. When I do not speak right away, he opens his eyes slowly and looks me straight in the eye as if preparing to face whatever verdict I will decide upon. It is clear he fears he may have lost my good favor for keeps and is girding up to deal with that fact.

Does he truly think a couple of incidents of questionable behavior would make me forget everything we have been through and all he has done for me and for so many others? Why I have ever admired him for both for his unique abilities and skills, and for his undying loyalty and eagerness to please. I have come to rely on him in many ways. For a certainty there are many folks, including myself, who would not be here today were it not for his bravery and steadfast determination. Does he really believe a few bad decisions would make me turn away from him? As I gaze into the fearful blue eyes, I can see that that is exactly what he does think. It hurts to realize the mental anguish he has been suffering on top of all the physical pain and just as I am keen to help alleviate the latter, so do I also wish to ease the former for both are detrimental and can be dangerous if left to fester. I use the hand I am holding to pull him into my arms for a proper embrace, where I hold him for a long moment.

“Ye foolish, foolish child. Do ye not yet know that there is nothing you can tell me that will cause me to wish to desert you? Ye should never again hesitate to tell me your fears, for I cannot help ye if I do not know what is wrong can I?” I rebuke gently. “Here ye have been suffering and for no good reason, and me blind as to why that is. That must never happen again.”

I release him from my grip and help him settle back on the pillows and take both of his hands in mine before I continue.

“Listen to me carefully, Lad. It is true you have made mistakes and gotten up to tremendous amounts of mischief, but that is hardly anything that is unforgivable or even very uncommon. You are missing the mark big if you think any of your friends will turn their backs on you for some childish errors in judgment. We are only sorry that ’ve had to suffer so and just want to see you recovered.”

“It is no more than I deserve for what I have done. I am sorry you have been afflicted with such an obstinate, dim-witted creature as myself.”

Now that is uncalled for! I poke a finger in his chest and growl, “I will not tolerate such talk from you! You are not an affliction nor are you dim-witted and in no way did you deserve to have such a terrible thing happen to you.

“But…but you warned me, Gimli! Aragorn warned me. Even the Queen told me to be cautious, yet I thought I knew more than all of you. I even went against your direct orders and did as I pleased even after vowing to heed you. I deserve all that has happened and more for what I have done!” He pleads with me to understand, “And now I have ruined treasured friendships and made a terrible situation for the King and Queen. You may forgive me, but others will not and I do not blame them in the least. And worst of all, I have shamed my father and my people.”

He covers his face with both hands again and is trembling in his distress, but I have heard enough of this foolishness and tell him so.

“Are you quite finished Elfling?” I demand in my sternest voice.

He nods from behind his hands.

“I am glad for I have something to say and you are not to interrupt until I have finished saying it. Do you understand?”

Again the nod.

“I will agree that your behavior has been unbecoming and less than I would have expected of you, especially after you promised your father you would listen to me and do as I ask. You have been willful and disobedient and altogether difficult since you have arrived in the city. I will not pretend otherwise, for it is true and I am happy to see that you now admit to that fact. And you certainly deserved a thorough tongue lashing and a good hiding for that and believe me you were moments away from it before your collapse.”

I lean forward and down to look up into his downcast eyes.

“Look at me, Lad, for I am not finished.”

He hesitantly lifts his eyes to mine and I can see the fear there and also the hope that I will be able to prove that he is wrong.

“You deserved to be called to account for your actions, Child, but in no way did you deserve what those terrible men did to you. You did not deserve to suffer so, nor did you ask for it by being in the wrong place. No matter what you had done, you did not deserve to be poisoned. They were trying to kill you. It is a horrendous crime to put lethal toxins in someone’s drink, no better than if they had shot you full of arrows. It was a crime against you. You must believe me Lamb. This was not your fault and you did not by any means deserve it.”

He wants desperately to believe me. That I can see, yet he is still not completely convinced that life as he knew it has not ended forever. I pause for a moment to let that sink in and then carry on.

“As far as your friends go, of course they will not abandon you. Get that notion out of your flighty head immediately. Do you think none of them have ever behaved poorly or gotten involved in mischief before?”

He answers by way of a half-hearted shrug.

“Come now Lad, think about it. You have long known Gondor’s king, haven’t you? You must remember him getting into some sort of trouble in his youth.”

He smiles a little at some memory or other and concedes, “Yes he has been in mischief on more than one occasion.”

I smile as well and wink, “I suspected as much and I for one sometimes think he hasn’t changed all that much.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment as if contemplating this idea.

“The same is true for the Elrondion twins and Lady Arwen and I am sure there is someone somewhere who could tell you stories of even your own father. They will not judge ye for being an elf does not mean being perfect, as they all can attest to.”

“That I certainly know.” He says ruefully.

I chuckle and pat his hand and lean forward as if sharing confidential information.

“I know it may be difficult to believe, but even yours truly has not always been the flawless specimen of dwarfhood you now see before you.”

His eyes light up with interest at that statement.

“You cannot mean that Elvellon,” he teases, “Surely you have never been involved in any sort of waywardness.”

“I could tell you tales that would curl your hair, Laddie”

“Now that sounds like something I would like to hear. You must tell me.”

“Why would I do such a thing to myself? You will not hear such stories from my lips!”

He laughs at that. What a lovely sound that is!

“It matters not,” he declares, “I shall just ask Lady Vonild the next time I see her.”

“You do that. I am certain she will be happy to entertain you at my expense,” I say leaning forward to kiss the top of his golden head. I arrange the covers more closely around him and stroke the smooth skin of his cheek with my thumb.

“Do you feel better now, Lamb?”

“I think so.”

“Thinking so is not enough. You must do so! And when next you have a visitor, just behave as you normally would and you will see that all is well. Trust me, child. I would never lie to you.”

“I know you would not, Elvellon. Thank you.”

“Then you will believe me when I say that there is not another being anywhere on middle earth who means more to me than you do. I know I do not say so often, but times like these make the words come easier. You have been a constant source of joy to this old dwarf, like the child I never expected to have, and I want the very best for you.” I put my hands on both sides of his face, “ As long as I have breath in my body you are I never again to suffer such anguish of mind on your own. If something is eating at you like this, you must promise to tell me from now on. Is that clear, Elfling?”

“It is clear, Gimli. I promise.”

“Good Lad! Now you have enough time to get in good long rest before Aragorn comes with your next dose of medicine.”

His expression become sour, but it is no longer anguished and I feel my face relax into a grin. He is likely still a long way from full recovery, but now that his conscience is eased things should begin to improve.

Legolas' pov:

I allow Gimli to tuck me back under the covers and fuss over me for awhile for I know he feels the need to offer me this extra care and frankly I am more than happy to receive it.

For the first time since I was poisoned, which seems as if it were a life time ago now I am free of anxiety, guilt and shame.

How could I not have had the sense to speak to my friend of my fears to tell him what was clouding my mind?  
He may deny that I am stupid but I certainly feel it.  
I have been taught a very good lesson in humility I think, and in placing too great reliance upon my so-called superior senses. They did not save me from a near death experience. My mortal friends did that, by their diligence, skill and love and undeserving though I still feel I am I can only be grateful for their efforts.  
I make a promise to myself to use this experience as a learning tool, to be more open with my feelings and concerns, to see the strengths of others and acknowledge my own weaknesses, for I do not doubt I have many.

Yet I will not brood. I have been offered a second chance and I will not waste it in repining over what was.  
Already as if because I have accepted what has happened and spoken of my fears and most importantly, been reassured I feel as if my healing has now truly begun.

Given the accelerated healing of the elves I may well be able to get up very soon. I hope so for my illness has meant Gimli has missed many of the events that have been taking place to celebrate the One-year anniversary of the defeat of the Dark Lord. He says he has no regrets in staying with me and that there will be many more celebrations to attend but I have been selfish long enough and I would have him go and enjoy himself a little rather than continue to dance attendance on me all of the time.

I can see him from under my lashes moving about the room, humming to himself and know he is feeling better as well for we have cleared the air between us. Well to be truthful he has done so, and thank The One he has.

How fortunate I am to have such a friend and all my other friends as well. Perhaps that is another lesson I have learnt, that I should treasure what time I have with my mortal companions. Their life span is short. I cannot afford to push them away anymore and do not intend to do so.  
Oh I do not deny that seeing them again for the first time after my illness is likely to be embarrassing but that is something I brought upon myself and the fault is mine not theirs. I will have to make my peace with the Elrondionnath as well and I suspect I am in for a real roasting from Estel and Arwen.

I sigh, and immediately Gimli hurries to my side.

“Now what is amiss lad?”

I smile up at him, “I was just imagining the reactions of all my friends when next I see them. It is bound to be a little awkward at first trying to explain why I pushed them away.”

“No it will not” He reassures me “For you won’t tell them that. I will tell them all you will welcome seeing them now as you are feeling much better. They do not need to know anything else.” 

“But but should I not tell them the truth?” I ask

“What purpose will it serve, Lamb? All it will do is hurt their feelings thinking you thought so little of them that you believed they would take a disgust over your foolishness and ye wouldn’t want to do that now would you?”

I had not thought of it in that way and it startles me to think now that my distancing myself from my friends may have hurt their feelings. I do not like to lie, mainly because I am not very good at it, but perhaps this time it would be as well to at least spare them further distress.

Almost as if he can read my thoughts Gimli adds “Ye won’t need to lie, lad. You are feeling better and you are happy to see your friends again. Anything else can and will be put down to the effect of the poison and needs not be spoken of again. Now you are supposed to be resting are ye not?”

“I am and I will,” I promise, “But before I do that I want- need- to say something to you my very good friend.” I hold up a hand to stop him breaking in on me, “No, well do I know you will not want to listen to me apologizing or thanking you for your care of me, although you may be sure that I am sorry and I am very conscious of the debt I owe you. But what I wanted to say was that I wish you would now take some time for yourself. Go out and enjoy the celebrations, drink some of that beer the Hobbits have brought with them from the Shire. I promise on my oath I will do just as I am bid by the healers and will not make any attempt to escape their care until I am pronounced ready to do so, no matter how much I am tempted to try. Please Gimli Elvellon “I add a little shyly “it is the only way I have presently of showing you how much I know myself to be in debt to you.”

I can see that he is tempted so I suggest that perhaps he can find someone else willing enough to keep me company if he does not like to leave me completely unsupervised.

“That’ll be hard indeed.” He chuckles and my face falls only to see the twinkle in his dark eyes, “Find someone! Why laddie, they are queuing up to spend time with ye. Ye are well liked ye know and all your friends are anxious to see you on the mend. I’ll speak to Aragorn when he brings in your medicine and see what we can organize. Until then you are supposed to be resting.”

“Yes Gimli” I agree meekly and obediently close my eyes and prepare myself for sleep with a smile on my lips for all will be well now. I know it for Gimli has said so!

Gimli's

For the first time since we have been reunited, I feel as if things are finally right Legolas and myself. The ordeal we have been through has been trying indeed, but while he is still weak and in need of care, I am confident now that it is only a matter of time before he makes a full recovery. Especially now that he will allow all those who care for him to do what they wished in the first place, which is to assist him any way they can. Now that he has finally shared his burden with me, it is clear that he is able to rest easier and that is the ticket to healing. I find myself humming as I go about my tasks, so relieved am I at the success of our conversation. Never again will I accept lame excuses when I suspect something is niggling at his over active conscience. He needs to learn that it is better to be open with such things even if it is uncomfortable to do so for such agony of mind can be quite damaging.

I look around this room that I have spent so much time in over the last few days and realize it would be very pleasant indeed to get out for a while, just as the Lad has suggested. I have made a promise to stay with him until he is well, and I still intend to fulfill that promise. I could tell it would please him more for me to leave long enough to enjoy some of the celebrations that have been taking place rather than continually sit here with him, though I suspect it will be better for both of us if I keep my time away short. I know it will relieve his conscience if he knows I have taken part in the festivities, yet I also know that he will not do well with anyone else helping with certain personal needs. Besides if I were to be gone too long I would only fret and worry, so the best thing is to go out but for only a short time. There are some musical programs taking place this evening, so perhaps I will go out for a time to enjoy them. I will wait until Legolas wakes and see how he is doing before I make a decision.

He sleeps quietly for the rest of the afternoon and is still at it when Aragorn comes in with a serious look on his face. I wonder what the problem is now?

“Gimli, I must talk to you.” He says solemnly.

I am immediately alarmed, “What is it, Lad? Has something happened?”

“Not exactly,” he begins to explain, “it is just that I have been talking to my brothers and they feel there is something wrong with Legolas other than the obvious. They are concerned that he may be pining over something and are afraid it will digress to dangerous levels. They do not suggest he is in danger of fading, but we must not take any chances. They are both experienced healers and I trust their judgment completely.”

“As you should, for they were right on the money,” I say, “but we have already addressed it and all is well again, so you need not worry over it any longer.”

A relieved smile lights his face.

“I should have known you would not let such a thing escape your notice. You know him better than I do it seems, though not nearly as long. What did you tell him?”

“Nothing much. Just that he hadn’t ruined every friendship he had ever formed nor brought his family to disgrace for millennia to come.”

“He always has managed to go to extremes of extremes. How did you convince him?”

“Oh I just reminded him that his friends are not infallible and that we have all made errors in judgment at times. He was very quick to agree with that, especially when talking about you. Said you were a hellion in your youth. Possibly the worst trouble maker he has ever met and quite frankly didn’t think you have changed all that much over the years,” I state this with a perfectly somber face.

“Did he really say that?” Aragorn raises one eyebrow skeptically.

“Not in so many words I suppose, but I am certain that is what he meant.”

He laughs easily now that his worries have been put the rest, “In that case I shall not feel guilty making him drink this bitter tea. I only wish now I could remove the honey!”

He shakes Legolas gently awake. Legolas offers him a genuine smile that turns a bit sheepish when he looks my direction and sees me nod to indicate that we have already talked. Aragorn says nothing about that but just begins with an accusation.

“I hear you have been spreading vicious lies about me Thranduilion!” He frowns severely but his eyes are merry.

Legolas blinks in confusion. “What are you talking about, Estel?”

“Gimli says you told him I was a wayward youth when the fact is I was a model boy and well you know it. How could you tell such falsehoods?”

“I said no such thing. But now that you mention it, there was that time you made me smoke that strange weed with you and I ended up with a broken arm while you threw rocks at a hornet’s nest. Remember how sick we were the next…”

Aragorn places a hand over the elfling’s mouth, “We do not need to hear that story, Legolas. And besides it was an accident. Could have happened to anyone.”

“What about the time those human traders came to Imladris and Lord Elrond found you in a closet with one of their daughters?” Legolas turns his eyes to me, “One human female visits in five years and he manages to get her to…”

“LEGOLAS!”

“What?

“Shut up and drink the brew! And I hope it is the most bitter concoction ever to pass your lips.”

We are all laughing by now and Legolas is able to manage the tea without much help, though the taste has not improved much judging by the face he pulls as he swallows it

The three of us have formed a close bond over the last couple of years and it is nice to be able to laugh and jest together. It is the first time things have felt normal between us since we arrived. I only hope we can arrange for the rest of the remaining ones of the fellowship to be all together before some of them have to return home. If Legolas is unable to leave this room, then perhaps we can arrange to have them come here. I find myself looking forward to seeing the hobbits who I have been here for several days, though I have not seen them.

Before Aragorn leaves we discuss the possibility of arranging someone to come in to sit with Legolas while I go out for a short while. I am no longer certain this is a good idea, but the others both insist that everything will be fine, so I have no choice but to agree. Aragorn promises to arrange something and then he is gone, leaving me alone once again with my charge. I go to sit with him in the now customary place on the edge of his bed and look down into his now relaxed face.

“That was not so bad now was it Laddie? Even knowing the full truth the King did not change his attitude toward you. And I have it on good source that the sons of Elrond were never upset with you but were merely concerned over your behavior. They had advised their foster brother to find out what was amiss with you. So you see there is nothing more for you to be concerned over.”

“I admit you were right all along, Gimli. I should never have doubted you or them,” he says placing a hand on my arm.

I pat his hand. “Never mind that, Lad, it is all behind us now. Do not waste your energy apologizing again, for it is over and done with. Your only focus should be on getting well and you know what that means don’t you?”

A slight pout appears on his face, “I cannot possibly sleep anymore, Elvellon. I have done nothing else all day and I am no longer tired.”

“Then humor me and pretend,” I insist.

He gives me a strange look, but gives in easily.

“If it will make you happy.”

“It will.”

He shrugs and closes his eyes feigning sleep. As I suspected it soon becomes real enough and the hours go by until it is nearly time for me to leave. I begin to wonder who Aragorn has found to fill in for me while I am gone.

The door opens and I find myself looking into the serious blue eyes of the Ring Bearer himself.

“Dear Gimli,” he smiles serenely, “how wonderful to see you again. It has been too long.”

“Aye, it has indeed Laddie,” I agree, clapping him on the shoulder, “we must spend some time getting reacquainted.”

“Yes we must, but now is not the time. The others are expecting you.”

I glance once at Legolas who is still sleeping and then back at Frodo who laughs at my obvious hesitation.

“Just go, Gimli, we will be fine,” he says opening the door for me.

XXXX


	12. Chapter 12

It seems to me that most of my time since I came to Gondor has been taken up in waking up …  
I cannot recall a time when I have needed so much sleep. I have indeed been ill for there is no other reason for me to require to be slumbering all the time.  
I turn my head expecting to see as I have done every other time I have awoken the stout form of Gimli Gloinson either sitting, or standing at my bedside.  
I blink for my dwarven minder seems to have metamorphosed into a much more slender figure with large eyes and as I look downwards very hairy feet.

“Frodo!”

He smiles that sweet, rather sad knowing smile of his the one that tells those that know that he is still suffering and possibly always will suffer from the wounds both physical and emotional he endured during the quest.

“I am happy to see you awake Legolas and I understand looking better than you have been, although you look very pale to me.”

“I am fine.” The look he gives me is so like that of a father observing a somewhat recalcitrant child that I find myself adding “that is I am getting better every day.”

Frodo laughs at this and I am happy to hear his soft chuckles even if they are at my expense.

“I am surprised to see you here,” I say to him “I would have expected the ring bearer to be in much demand and I am sure you must have much more agreeable places to be here keeping me company, though I am very grateful for it.” I hurry to add realizing that my words could be construed as less than gracious.

“I am happy for a brief respite if I am truthful” Frodo tells me with another of his gentle smiles, “I find I tire very easily these days and the noise and bustle of the city is too much for me. So when Aragorn said that you were now fit for visitors and that if someone was willing to come and sit with you for awhile Gimli would be able to take part in some of the celebrations that are going on I was the first to volunteer, although it was a close run thing.”

My brow wrinkles as I listen to this “Close run thing?” I query.

“Oh yes,” Frodo plumps up my pillows for me and offers me a drink of cool sweet cider. “there was a positive rush to offer to come and keep you company. Sam wished to accompany me but I persuaded him that the people at the entertainment today would want to see one of the ring bearers and that I was too tired to go. He wasn’t happy about it but I managed to get him to agree in the end. Of course Merry and Pippin were desperate to come with me as well, but I knew that Gimli would not be happy with that idea.” He grins, “They are not the most restful of companions and while I knew you would enjoy seeing them again I had to agree with Aragorn that maybe they should go at the end of the list of sitters. They argued about it, quite loudly I have to tell you, but then Faramir and Eowyn offered to take them into the city and they were diverted at least for now.”

“Sitters?” I ejaculate, ignoring the last part of his conversation and blushing hotly at the thought of my friends believing I need a baby sitter.

“Oh I did not mean it in that way” Frodo assures me; although I am not fully reassured. Still I cannot deny that my recent conduct has earned this encomium.  
“Anyway, Sam is next of the list. He said he would be bringing one of his special soups, the one you enjoyed so much on your visit to the Shire. He also said he was quite prepared to storm the Citadel kitchens if needed so he could make it for you. He doesn’t trust all of those fancy cooks, although Arwen assured him that would not be necessary.  
Faramir and Eowyn are next. Elladan and Elrohir we would not allow to put their names forward. As Pippin pointed out they will see you anyway since they are helping with your recovery although they were not happy about it. Then there is Eomer and Lothiriel and of course Arwen and …”

“Stop, stop” I have to laugh, it seems to me that half of Minas Tirith is lining up to come and keep me company. If anything was needed to reinforce all that Gimli has been trying to tell me in the last few days it only took this, and I am very grateful.

The next three days prove Frodo’s words to be true and a positive stream of visitors come through my chamber door. Most just seem happy to see me ‘on the mend’ as Samwise puts it. The Elrondionnath of course give me a thundering scold when they first come to help me with exercising the muscles in my legs telling me that I am a complete ‘idiot’ and a ‘fool’. I take their lecture in good part as far as I am able, and it is left to Gimli to tell them that enough is enough and that he will not have me admonished in such a fashion since it is not at all seemly.  
Elladan and Elrohir grin appreciatively at this knowing full well that I will have heard much worse from Gimli himself.

During this time I also find my full strength returning and my frustration growing at my continuing restriction. Yet having given my word to Gimli I do my best to keep my frustrations to myself.  
I fail needless to say for he knows me so well and on the third day he and Aragorn finally give me permission to leave my bed and sit in a chair by the window.

I am also allowed more visitors and things occasionally become quite lively. I begin to plead with my carers to be allowed to at least take part in some part in the last of the One year Celebrations.  
Gimli tells me that I need not try to wheedle him. He is made of far sterner stuff than that. And what is more, I will be going nowhere until Aragorn gives me permission.

I sigh and roll my eyes but resign myself to the fact that he is in the right and all I can do is give him one of my most beseeching looks and reply docilely. “Yes Gimli.”

Gimli's pov:  
In spite of my hesitation to leave the healing ward, I have managed to find the evening quite tolerable. The entertainment was pleasant, the beer brought in from the Shire was exquisite and the company was very satisfying indeed. I have enjoyed myself much more than expected and yet I am anxious to return to my vigil, for I have felt just a twinge of regret that my elfling was unable to be with me. He would have taken great pleasure in such an event.

I am happy to find on my returning that Legolas has enjoyed his quiet visit with the Ring Bearer. The lad is still a bit peaky and quite pale, but his eyes are clear and his smile is genuine. It is easy to see now that he will likely make a full and rapid recovery. I wish I could say the same about poor Frodo. His smile is also genuine but his eyes are still haunted and I doubt that he will ever return to his former robust health. He has literally carried the weight of the world on his wee shoulders and though it was done with courage and dignity, he will ever bear the scars. As always I am awed in his presence. I do not say this of course for he would only find it awkward and embarrassing so instead I thank him kindly for his assistance, even as he insists that the pleasure was his entirely.

After Frodo’s departure I spend a few minutes talking to Legolas who insists on hearing all the details of my evening at the celebration. I am hesitant to talk of it fearing he will regret having to miss it even more, but he is adamant that I tell him everything. Before long though, much to his consternation, he is having trouble keeping his eyes open. I know he is finding this weakness and constant need for rest frustrating, but I assure him that Aragorn says it is to be expected and should improve very soon.

“Ye must be patient with yourself, Lad. Healing takes time and it has only been a few days.”

“I am tired of being patient,” he protests even as his eyes drift closed again.

If he is tired of being patient already, then I had better prepare myself for the days to come when he truly begins feeling better. I resign myself to the fact that I will have to harden my heart to his pleas and put up with a lot of sulking and complaining.

However, that turns out not to be the case at least in the beginning. He is trying his best to be cooperative. After all he has made a promise to do so and the many visitor that come by serve as a distraction for a while as well. Legolas is quite pleased to see them all, though at times I have to drop broad hints to get them to leave at a decent time. This is a healing ward, not a banquet hall and he must have an opportunity to rest if he is to improve. Most of them are quite pleasant and do a remarkable job of keeping the lad entertained and his spirits chirked up, but those identical offspring of Elrond seem to think it is their duty to rake my elfling over the coals in quite a distasteful fashion! I tolerate their chiding him for about two minutes and then let them know in no uncertain terms that it is quite enough. They are here to aid in his recovery and nothing more. If any further rebuking needs done, I shall be the one to do it and if they cannot manage to remain pleasant while they are here then we can easily find someone else to take over their job. They seem to find this amusing, but it successfully shuts them up at least while I am present; and I make sure I am always present when they are around.

Legolas get stronger as each day passes and I can see that the restrictions we are placing on him are beginning to chafe, though he tries his best to hide it. In spite of his best efforts, I still have to remind him with a stern look or even a word or two that he must remain in bed. I am adamant about this in front of him, but when Aragorn comes I find myself pleading the lad’s case and I manage to get permission for him to sit in a chair by the window. More visitors are allowed to come and sometimes it feels like the festivities are taking place right here in the healing ward. It is around this time when Legolas is finally sent back to our own chambers. This is accompanied by a warning that it is not license to do whatever he pleases, for he has not yet been released from the care of the healers. He is being moved strictly for the sake of the other patients in the healing ward that our rather rambunctious visitors not disturb them.

The warning falls on deaf ears however, for it seems like the Lad’s patience has finally come to an end. He no longer tries to behave but openly pleads to be allowed to attend the last of the celebrations. It becomes difficult to continue denying him, especially when he offers me his most winning smile.

“Elvellon?” the voice is as honey.

“Yes Lad?”

“How will I ever repay you for your kindness to me?” His voice becomes thick with gratitude as he takes my hand and continues, “Without your constant help, no doubt I would not now be feeling so back to normal and in perfect health.” He blinks a few times giving him an innocent appearance, but I know better for I have heard this all before.

“No need at all to repay me and I am happy to know you are feeling better.” I pat his shoulder and turn to leave, but he does not yet release me.

“Since you have already agreed that I am better, don’t you think it possible that I might be allowed out, just for a little while? I would only stay a short time and come back as soon as you say I must, I promise.” This time he turns large pleading eyes on me, “Please?”

I frown and pretend to be unaffected by such doings.

“Ye need not try your wheedling ways with me, Elfling for I am made of sterner stuff than to be swayed by such wiles. We will not speak of this again and what is more you will be going nowhere until Aragorn says you may. Is that clear?”

He sighs and rolls his eyes at this but I can see the true disappointment on his face as he meekly replies, “Yes Gimli.”

Damn it! If he would have protested or complained I could have held my ground, for I am used to prevailing in any sort of scrap but this docile compliance just makes me feel guilty and cruel.

Over the next couple of days he stops asking about the events that have been continuing to run, though he insists that I go to them when I can. He is true to his word and does not ask again about attending himself, though I can see the longing whenever any of his many visitors happen to mention it.

Finally the event that all the celebrations have been leading up to arrives. The climax of the festivities will be held tonight. We do not discuss this, though I am certain he expects to be alone tonight for he knows we could never ask anyone to stay with him on this special evening. He is standing looking out the window of his bedchamber when I enter. He turns toward me looking surprised that I am there.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to go?” he asks.

“Actually, Lad, I just came to let you know I will be spending the evening with you.” I inform him. His becomes suddenly alarmed at my saying this.

“You cannot!” He insists.

“I will decide what I can and cannot do,” I rumble. “Ye didn’t expect that I was going to leave you all alone tonight did ye?”

“Yes, Gimli that is exactly what I was expecting!” he splutters. “You cannot possibly mean to stay with me. I will be fine on my own and I would feel terrible if you were to miss the celebration tonight.”

“Who said anything about missing the celebration? It is rumored that the best ale has been saved for tonight’s events. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away!”

His brow wrinkles in confusion, “But you just said…” I can see the moment when it dawns on him what I might be saying. He looks at me suspiciously through narrowed eyes, clearly wondering if he has misunderstood me. I do not leave him to speculate for long, though.

“Come, Lad, don’t let’s stand about arguing. Ye have just enough time to get ready.”

Legolas' pov:

I stand on the raised dais that looks out of the Fountain Court and the White Tree below us and listen to Aragorn as he speaks to his people.

The evening has been wonderful, even more so after my long incarceration in the healing wards and then in my own chambers. I am fortunate to be here.

I glance down at my companion, Gimli Gloinson. He has a tankard of ale in his hand, his dark eyes are alive with laughter as he and Eomer exchange insults with each other. They are the best of friends but they love to argue over the relative beauty of their favourite ladies.

A lump comes to my throat as Gimli gives that roaring laugh of his and slaps Eomer on the arm. How much I owe my friend, not just for allowing me to attend this final event in the One Year celebrations, although I do thank him for it. I had quite resigned myself to a long evening alone when Gimli came to tell me he was spending the evening with me. I argued with him for I am very aware how much I am already in his debt and how much he has sacrificed for me since we came south, and did not wish him to miss this final night of remembrance and could hardly believe my ears when he told me I was to be allowed to attend after all.  
I hurried to dress appropriately, I did not even complain about the fact I was required to wear my circlet I was so grateful to be back among my friends and free of the healers ministrations.

Had it not been for Gimli of course I may not have survived to see this celebration, for the poison was insidious and difficult to identify. If I ever doubted how much he cares for me the fact that he was prepared to kill to get the answers he needed to ensure my survival wiped such doubt away.  
He has not wished to speak very much of what actually happened, although Faramir and Aragorn have been more forthcoming when they have come to sit with me during my recovery.  
It seems the young female I saw in the Black Swan came to Gimli with information about the man Hador. It was a brave thing for her to do and I was anxious to see that she was rewarded for her courage and that she did not suffer from any of Hador’s friends taking revenge on her.  
But when I asked Faramir told me that Arwen had already spoken with Maellenn and learned from her that she had once been a seamstress. Arwen has given her sufficient gold to be able to set herself up in business once more and has said she will patronize the little shop Maellenn intends to open. I know well enough that where the Queen of Gondor goes other ladies of the court will follow and I hope that with Arwen’s patronage Maellenn will be able to begin a new life for herself.  
I intend to thank her myself as soon as I am given permission to leave the Citadel, although that may not be for a few more days yet.

I turn my attention to the speech that Aragorn is making. He is talking of the sacrifices so many made to bring about this day.  
Of those who died in this just cause. I am pleased he mentions both Boromir and Lord Denethor and I can see from the proud smile on his face that Faramir very much appreciates it also. The citizens of Minas Tirith cheer lustily when Aragorn raises a goblet and toasts the family of Hurin and our present steward and his lady.

Aragorn then speaks of those who came to the aid of his people, Eomer now king of Rohan, Lady Eowyn, Prince Imrahil and the swan knights of Dol Amroth and the rangers of the north. There are more cheers, and Eomer and Lothiriel stand to receive the applause of the crowd as do Faramir and Eowyn. More names are mentioned the living and the dead, the mighty and the lowly all played their part.  
He calls on the people to remember as well that it was not only in Gondor that fighting took place, he speaks of the scouring of the Shire, and I can see the Hobbits eyes fill with tears as they remember the devastation that met them on their return. He recalls the burning of the West fold and the storming of Helms Deep. Then he speaks to them of the war in the north of the battles in Lake Town, the Lonely Mountain, and Erebor and finally the battle under the trees in my own land.

‘Old enmities were laid aside’ he says ‘and new alliance forged. Together we are strong, only in division can we be defeated...’

I look down at Gimli and he beams at me, clasping my arm in the traditional way of the warrior. There are no words needed between us for we know how true those sentiments are and how much we have both benefited from our friendship, although I believe I may be forever in debt to my dwarven minder, for I certainly had the better of the arrangement while poor Gimli’s reward has been a great deal of trouble and worry over his ‘flighty pointy eared princeling’.

When I made my appearance tonight at the private feast Aragorn had arranged for family and friends I was unaccountably nervous, but everyone welcomed me warmly, all seeming happy to see me out and about once more, although there was also much gentle scolding and advice for me as well, to ensure I keep myself well and out of mischief.  
I was quite moved by my reception, and it served to remind me once more on how fortunate I am and how much I owe to both my mortal and elven friends and in particular to Gimli.

Aragorn has gone on to speak of the sacrifices made in war reminding us that that it is not only the warrior who suffers during conflict. His voice gentles as he speaks of the widows and orphans, of those left behind their lives shattered, all victims of the evil that almost engulfed Middle Earth. He calls upon us all to note to the healers, and lore masters the farmers and fisher folk, anyone indeed who stood in some way against the Shadow. All have contributed to our freedom today in some fashion he tells us then finally he calls upon us all to raise our voices and acknowledge the pair who made all of what we achieved possible Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee.

The crowd below us erupts, cheering and clapping, even here on the dais we are all stamping our feet and shouting while Frodo and Sam blush and smile and wave their thanks. Just as I think Frodo is beginning to look uncomfortable with all the praise and attention, the sky is lit with a truly wondrous firework display and everyone looks up to the sky allowing the ring bearers to regain their equilibrium.

The fireworks can only have come from one source I decide they must have been left by Gandalf for no one else is capable of producing such a magnificent display.

As the firework display goes on those of us on the dais get the opportunity to toast each other and share our own memories and thoughts of the last year of so.  
Tears are shed but there is laughter to and many smiles and embraces as we all give thanks for our success and look to a brighter future for all of Middle Earth.

My thoughts go to Eryn Lasgalen and Erebor where my father and my adopted dwarven family will be thinking of us this night and I send them my love and greetings.

How happy I am to have been given permission to attend the last night of the celebrations. It is more than I deserve and I make a promise to myself that I will not cause Gimli any more trouble on this visit.

This has been a truly momentous evening and I am feeling quite fatigued by it all, not that I intend to say anything.

Of course I do not need to. Gimli has noted my growing exhaustion and immediately says it is time I am tucked up in my bed.

I would like to object but everyone is now saying their goodnights and the party is breaking up and I am tired so I nod my agreement only asking for a moment to say something to all of my friends before I retire.

As they all look towards me I find myself blushing as everyone falls silent and looks my way, but I square my shoulders and speak. “All of you know some of what has happened to me here in the White City. Not many of you know the full story of how these things came about. Suffice it to say that my pride and overweening belief in my superior senses, led me into grave danger, and it was only the determination of Aragorn and of Gimli that I am here tonight with you all. There are no words that can properly convey my profound gratitude for all that they have done for me yet I do say thank you to them and ask their forgiveness for causing them so much trouble and grief.”

It is Aragorn’s and Gimli’s turn to blush and demur as everyone joins me in recognizing all they have done.  
When the clamor dies down a little I speak again, “and I particularly wanted to show my appreciation to Gimli for his care, yes, all of it” I reiterate as I grin at him and he chuckles knowingly. “And to tell him that while I may not always show it as I should, that I am very much aware of the debt I owe him and how much I have come to rely on his presence in my life and, well I just wanted to say, thank you Elvellon.”

Everyone cheers and joins in with me in thanking ‘our gallant dwarf, ‘brave Gimli’ ‘redoubtable Naugrim’ and he gets very red faced and flustered and eventually grumbles that it is time and more that I take myself off, since I am beginning to spout nonsense.

“Come along” he growls tugging my arm and marching towards the door, “You are worn out Laddie, and you are going straight to bed. Aye and there will be no sneaking out to join the revels in the city either, for I intend to spend the rest of the night writing letters right outside your bedchamber door!”

There is much shouting and laughter as we walk away but when I look down at my friend I see he has tears in his eyes and I know I was right to speak as I did, even if he will never admit it, so I rest my hand on his shoulder and he pats it fondly and we go on our way, elf and dwarf in perfect harmony … for awhile at least!

Gimli's pov:

From the pen of Gimli Gloinson, Lord of Aglarond and temporary resident of Minas Tirith

Dear Lord Thranduil,  
I hope this letter finds you and your household well.

I sit staring at this page wondering what I should write next. Is it my duty to tell of all that has happened over the last week or so? Would it be kinder to leave out some details that would only be cause for worry? I know what I wish to do, but I am uncertain as to what is the correct thing. As I sit pondering this dilemma my mind drifts back over the events of the day.

This evening’s celebration of the liberation of Middle Earth has been an outstanding success. Aragorn’s speech had the crowd on their feet from the beginning to the final word. It was touching indeed, though sweeter still to me was Legolas’ shyer speech given just as we were leaving the more intimate gathering of close friends. I do not need such accolades of course for doing what needed to be done and did not hesitate to tell him so. Such speech leaves me uncomfortable and tongue-tied. Yet everyone likes to be appreciated and I could not help being pleased at his gracious words of commendation and thanks. Even as I chided him for spouting such nonsense I felt a lump form in my throat and tears fill my eyes. How thankful I was and still am that he was able to be by my side tonight.

I am still smiling over this memory as Legolas enters the room and sits across the small table from me. He has removed the circlet and the formal robes, but still looks every inch a prince to me. I can see he has enjoyed the evening, for he appears very satisfied indeed, though rather worn out. I frown as I notice he is still thinner and more peaky than I would like to see him.

“Did I not send you to bed, Child?” I demand.

“Yes Elvellon, you did. But I could not sleep without saying one more time how much I am in your debt…”

I hold up my hand, “Do not say it again, Lad. There is no need.”

“But there is need,” he tries again, “I really must tell you…”

“Enough!” I interrupt. “Just go to bed you pesky elf.”

He opens his mouth to speak again, but I merely growl and point to the door of his bedchamber. He leans quickly across the table and kisses me on the cheek.

“Thank you Gimli!” he says and laughs out loud as he leaps to his feet and heads for the door. I reach for a small pillow on the couch beside me and toss it at his retreating back. But I miss my mark for his lightning fast reflexes have returned it seems. He spins around just in time to catch it and throw it back at me before laughingly ducking inside the bedchamber. I shake my head but cannot help the smile that comes to my face as I turn back to my task. I pick up my pen and dip it into the ink and continue writing:

All is well here in the White City…

End

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story there are more like it at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheLeaflingChronicles/  
> New members are welcome!


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